


How Cupids meet.

by Kaiwi



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bondage, Drug Use, F/F, Fiction, Not Canon Compliant, Past Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:33:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26396461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiwi/pseuds/Kaiwi
Summary: Set as a prequel to the upcoming remake of White and Dark chocolate play cupid. (Will be renaming the remake's title. Many changes to the original story.)The story of a young and troubled Swiss doctor finding comfort in the arms of a certain Egyptian dominatrix. And perhaps something more...?Set in a modern universe, England. (A fictitious part)Deals with elements of drug abuse, exploration of BDSM and recovery.Original characters do exist but play as mere supporting roles
Relationships: Fareeha "Pharah" Amari/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Lena "Tracer" Oxton/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix
Comments: 28
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well...Believe it or not, I managed to type this up in a single sitting.
> 
> For some reason despite the fact I have work soon. Here it is.
> 
> A prequel to one of my first Overwatch stories, and since then I hope I've made great improvements since that one.
> 
> As Mercy and Pharah have always been my second favourite ship, it is a shock that I've yet to write a story about them.
> 
> But seeing as I do utterly adore Widow X Tracer. This one will be short and sweet. Possibly only six chapters? (And will probably be finished unlike all my others!) 
> 
> Because deep down, I want to rewrite that story as soon as possible. Upon rereading it, found myself cringing hard in some parts and wish to prove to myself that I am capable of turning that story into something just a bit better. With a bit more polish and a far better arc and potential ending.
> 
> With that being said, please, PLEASE! Leave a comment, some feedback or just say hello. Part of what makes writing so enjoyable for me is interacting and improving alongside my readers. Some might find this hard to understand but it gives me incredible motivation when I wake up to see something to respond to.

**Prequel**

Day in. Day out.

Life on replay.

Angela rested her head against the cool metal frame of the front door. The floor underneath wet with the night’s rain, worn pumps slipping and bending. Indeed, the hospital, would have considered this a work hazard. Without even opening the door she could imagine what lay inside. The open plan living room lights off, moonlight spilling through the curtains, casting the litter of discarded wrappings, cup noodles and boxes in a sombre shade. A groan rumbled in the back of her mouth.  
  
A sudden faltering motion, Angela fell through the door, the chilly air greeted her pale cheeks. She turned, shutting the door and rested her head against the fine plywood. The smooth yet cool material, almost warm against her forehead compared to the rest of the apartment. A shiver rippled through her slender frame.

It was chilly. Unlike the hallway.

_Hwwuuhhuu...!_

Angela searched behind her with hunched shoulders, crooked and throbbing from long hours at the desk. The howling wind drew attention to the ajar framed window between the open kitchen and widescreen television, tiny pools of water had formed under the glimmer of the moon. She scanned the rest of the room slowly, expensive maroon leather couch seemed untouched except for the weather of time. As did the rest of her belongings.

The pricey upstate apartment was a shell of its former self.

A wince creased at the corner of the doctor’s hollow aqua eyes. The throbbing ache of her feet shook her back to the present, with a kick of her feet, the inky black dress pumps disappeared into the unlit corner with a gentle thud. Then lumbered over to her bed like a zombie.

Not her real bed.

But the couch.

Angela crashed into the musty leather. It wrinkled her nose. Not that she minded. The lab coat levitated before following suit. She nuzzled the leather as if greeting an old friend. After a light rummage into her coat pockets, the rectangular device was raised up to eye level. The luminescent beam of the phone was blinding, the doctor could only squint through long lashes at the time and date.

2:37 AM. 9/10/2020

A light trickle of satisfaction filled her chest.

How delightful…An early night for once!

The young doctor’s hand dived into her inner pocket, retrieving a orange pill container. A tiny circular white pill slipped past her lips. Her mind was already in oblivion.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

.

Amidst hospital hallway floor slate grey and the walls dove. Above the ceiling polystyrene squares laid in grid formation. Angela strode through straight-backed, arms and legs working in perfect unison amidst the bustle of activity.

Strong and sharp odour of chemical disinfectant reached her nose, the smell of _home_.

A sea of eyes trailed after. Many wide-eyed, splashes of morbid curiosity.

Some of the doctor’s peers froze mid-task to stare.

Flashes of approval, others of disapproval.

But each with a strangely warm linger behind.

“Hm?”

A frown teased Angela’s brow as she came to a grinding at the reception desk. She reached up to scratch the back of her skull just underneath the tight ponytail of straight and fair flaxen hair. Full lips pursing together into a displeased smack.

It wasn’t as if she was an alien to attention but…Today it seemed to be in excess?

Yes, she was young and still considered to be in her prime. Perhaps a prodigy in the surgical department.

But it wasn’t like there was a shortage of--

The perplexed doctor stared off into empty space for a moment.

**“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!?”**

A few squeaked gasps rippled through her peers, some rushing back to their tasks whilst others remained rooted to the ground. Their expressions twisted from shock to concern.

Angela jolted violently. The booming voice echoed through the hall and rattled in her skull. Like a drill sergeant from the movies. Her heartbeat quickened and her palms turned clammy. She twisted to the source of the disturbance and blinked.

Garbed in a white coat like hers with a posture of a soldier. He stormed towards from the distance, tall and well-built. Balding with wispy white hair combed back. Arms thrown up in the air, shaking his head at the ceiling.

“Answer me, Ziegler! What do you have to say for yourself?!”

Angela’s eyelashes fluttered; she tilted her head off to the side. A hesitant smile grew across her painted red lips before answering.

“U-Uhm…Reporting for work…Robert?”

Robert’s electric blue eyes bulged in their sockets for a moment as he loomed over. The corners of his weather-beaten softened before squeezing shut and for a moment he seemed to calm. His shoulders rose-up and down like a slow bicycle pump. With still shut eyes he pivoted sidewards, revealing his prominent brow ridge and with a sharp motion pointed down the hall with an open palm invitation.

Except it wasn’t.

“ **My office. NOW!”**

Angela’s gaze flicked towards the hallway, swallowing and dipped her head forward. Cheeks flushing a faint sakura pink as she traversed the hallway with quick strides, the senior gentleman looming from behind the young doctor felt like she was in high school all over again.

Hushed whispers could be heard in the wake of the audible reprimand.

……………………………………………………………………………………….

The swiss woman fidgeted as she sunk into the umber dino armchair. With a quiet click the oak door shut behind her in the spacious office. The interior decorated like a library with soaring wooden shelves, the vibrant Persian rug paired with the furniture. A pleasant scent of lavender tickled the nose within the warm and humid air.

A serious figure drifted into view as he arrived opposite his quiet footsteps pattering across the rug came to a sudden halt. He gripped the top of the tall armchair, repositioning it with well-defined arms before seating himself on top with an exhale.

Between them sat a flat computer monitor and desk lamp alongside stacks of documents, books and various other materials related to the treatment of diabetes was scattered across his desk

“Director Hayes—”

Angela spoke first, leaning forward attempting to appeal to her superior’s professional side. But was silenced by a piercing glare. The inside of her mouth dried up and her throat turned rough. Now all too aware of their height difference. She fought the urge to slide down further.

Despite his scrutinizing gaze Robert Hayes, the director of Garden City Medical Centre responded with a measured voice.

“Dr. Ziegler. Must I repeat myself **AGAIN** to you?”

“I—”

“I am well-aware of your dedication to your patients and profession. But I **MUST INSIST** that you respect my requests.”

Angela attempted to interject, raising a finger up into the air before faltering again.

“So when I tell you, that you have the entire week off. “He paused, his voice growling deeper. “ **I expect your presence at the hospital to be non-existent.”**

As if a great deal of stress lifted from his shoulders, Robert tilted his head back and released a defeated sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose and massaged gently.

“S…Sorry..”

Angela’s lips pursed into a tiny pout; the weak apology was all she could manage.

“…Angela. You are a cherished member of Garden City and.. .but your insistence to work these…These…” Robert spluttered to find the appropriate description. “…Nightmarish hours…Are reminiscent of your father.”

Angela’s fists clenched and averted her gaze down. She opted to remain silent on the matter.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows against the antique oak desk and buried his face into his palms. Robert’s groan was deep and rumbling. He took a moment to gather himself before continuing.

“When you graduated. I promised your mother to look after you. And I intend to honour that promise.”

“I…I know.”

The swiss woman offered a meek nod.

Robert withdrew his hands from his face and clasped them together. The stern gaze softened, and perhaps a slight tweak at the corner of his lips. His deep voice like a stern father figure. At least it was the closest contrast she could draw upon.

“We all have high hopes for you, Angie. I can see it; your peers can see it. You need to see it.” He paused to let the words sink in. “But when you push yourself into such a state like yesterday…You are of no use to anyone. For heaven’s sake your own patient during clinic duty!”

Angela’s blush deepened into a rose pink as he used his pet name, bobbing her head in response.

Robert fell silent and the trickle of liquid could be heard.

A colourful grass green cup glided into view from above. Angela accepted the drink and tipped it back. Raising her gaze to meet Robert’s as she returned the cup. The burning in her cheeks faded slightly.

“Th..Thank you.”

“So…Care to explain why you’re here?”

Robert quirked a brow.

“Uhh…I…”

Tempted by the urge to lie, Angela stumbled around for words. As his features grew stonier, she shifted in the seat before relenting.

“I…I forgot.”

“….You forgot?”

Robert queried as he turned to his computer. His lightly wrinkled fingers tapped against the keyboard with surprising youthfulness.

“Y…Yes.”

A shadow fell over his striking blue eyes as he studied the screen. Lips pursing into a thin line over time. After quite some time he demanded with a light bang of his fist.

“How much, Angie!?”

Angela stared dumbstruck.

He repeated himself, turning his gaze onto.

“How much Valium, Angela Ziegler? Answer me!”

The blood in her veins turned to ice. His figure seemed to grow and loom, even as he sat in the seat. She quivered before him and responded with a meek voice.

“J-Just f-four a day, s-sir!”

**“FOUR? FOUR!?”**

He bellowed and leapt to his feet and sending the armchair toppling backward.

Angela yelped and raised her arms to shield her face. Her heart in turn nearly leapt from her chest. Her boss circled around the desk with speed and strength comparable to a lion. Powerless to stop him from emptying her pockets.

Phone, purse and two pill bottles were retrieved.

Angela peered out from the side of her crisscrossed arms and nearly leapt from her skin.

Robert raised up the two pill bottles for inspection, almost too small in his large grasp. Sharp and intelligent eyes darted left to right, scanning the tiny scripture. A vein bulged in his forehead followed by a deep rumble.

The temperate in the room plummeted.

Without a word he unscrewed a bottle and emptied half its contents with forceful shakes into his palms before sealing it again. He repeated it with the other, turning to and discarded the pills onto the floor.

Angela’s jaw worked open and shut as she stared at the mix of caffeine and Valium pills bouncing against the padded floor. She clasped the side of the armchair and pushed up. A firm, hot grip clenched around her right shoulder and shoved her down, sending a paradoxical sensation of warmth and fright. Aqua met electric blue, stomach sunk. Spluttering,

“P…Please don’t t-tell m-mom!”

The director’s bushy hazelnut brows knitted into a profound frown, he searched his junior’s quaking figure. Wide eyes pleading upwards, drawing upon their familial past. He held the glower for a minute longer before raising two large fingers into the air.

“ **Two** weeks Angela. **Two weeks** , if you’re not clean by then. I will deliver the news to Elena myself over the phone.” He gave her a look to confirm the details were clear.

Angela gaped up at him, an eventual tip of her head followed. The weight against her shoulder lifted and Robert leaned back. He motioned towards the door with an expectant look followed a wave of his arm.

Scrambling to her feet, Angela retrieved her possessions, stuffing the necessities into her pockets and hurried away. Her cheeks throbbed like she had been slapped. Tears welled up in the corner of her eyes.

“ **Angie?”**

Robert called out as she neared the entrance to his office. Causing her to come to a halt.

“Y-Yeah?” Angela mumbled back. Hand wrapping around the polished doorknob.

“Just…” His voice faltered, before speaking in a softer tone. “Just a reminder that the hospital computers are to remain strictly for work purposes.”

The young woman’s hand froze mid-twist. Suddenly the back of her head was quite itchy. A brief image flashed in her mind. She reached back to scratch before playing it off by rubbing the back of her neck.

“I…Uh.”

“…That’ll be all, Ms. Ziegler.” He dismissed her; a slight tremble rocked his voice. As if to hold back a chuckle.

Angela’s cheeks set ablaze. With a sudden motion she wrenched the door open and fled.

_“Oh my gosh… **OH MY GOSH!”**_

…………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The door to the fridge squelched apart. Silver, sturdy and empty. Angela searched the layers but discovered nothing but an expired carton of milk. Eyeing it with disgust, she picked it up and gave it a ginger shake. The curdled content splatted against the cardboard.

“…When was the last time I went shopping?”

Angela asked the empty kitchen. Her only companion was the blaring television and rumble of the Roomba. For some odd reason she hoped there was a reward awaiting her after the attempt at a lengthy deep clean of her apartment. But to her dismay, everywhere she wiped and dusted, there was only more to be found.

It felt endless

At least the countless cups of ramen noodles and wrappings were disposed of. And the floor had the Roomba…So…As for the rest of her furniture…She promised to get to it another time. 

For now, food.

“ _BZZZZZZTTTZTTT!”_

The phone shook in the lab coat pockets, causing the doctor some alarm.

Angela ferreted in her pocket for the device. A sense of urgency in the pit of her stomach. Did the hospital require additional hands? Perhaps it was an emerge---

The train of thought was cut short as a lengthy paragraph was cut off from the text message. A frown teased her brows. But her expression soon brightened upon closer inspection.

It was one of her closest friends.

Lena Oxton.

As she read, the pilot’s upbeat and cheerful voice rang in her head.

“Hiiiiiyaaa, Angie!

I hope you’re well! Sorry that we haven’t been able to keep in touch :<

The project that the R.A.F has me working on should be finishing up soon

Good news though!

I should be home in a month and a half. For a little bit at least.

Here’s the best part though, it’ll be my last rotation before I’m restationed in London for an extended period!

So we needa catch up as much as possible before then too!!

xoxo

Love,

Lena

Angela’s eyes welled up; joy welled up in her chest. A brief lightness in her limbs.

_“RrGgggrGrhh!”_

The loud rumble of her tummy followed by a sharp pain.

Right. But even before that….

_Food…They maybe a nap_

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Insomnia haunted Angela’s nights, and fatigue ruled her days. When the need to be lucid was critical, her brain pleaded for sleep at any price. But when the hours of darkness arrive, the brilliant mind lit up with endless possibilities, new sources of dangers and solutions to pair. At times when she did doze off, it would only be for a couple of hours of fitful unconsciousness. Sometimes it was checking on the intensive care unit patients, other times were the long hours of clinic duty and hours of browsing the internet. With the Valium and Caffeine pills, she could somewhat stave off the effects of both. But they weren’t a cure all. Robert knew all too well.

 _Memory problems._ From the Valium.

Chronic headaches and dizziness. From the caffeinated pills. Of which could also cause insomnia.

It was an endless cycle of abuse.

One that Angela initially thought was manageable. It wasn’t like she was a stranger to Valium, she managed to ween herself off with ease in the past. Multiple times even. Shortly after the untimely passing of her father. And during her final year of studies in Switzerland.

This time however, started off with one Valium after a particularly nightmarish blitz of surgeries. One tiny mistake, and the little boy nearly bled to death. The image of his vital life essence bleeding profusely from the tiny nick kept repeating itself in her head that night. If it weren’t for the quick response from head of surgery…She dreaded to imagine what may have happened.

Yet as fate would have it for that evening, her next shift started with clinic duty with less than three hours of rest.

The middle-aged woman blabbed on and insisted her issue, but it fell on fatigued ears. Were it not for nurse Diem’s last minute catch, Angela nearly mis prescribed anti-inflammatories to someone partaking antihypertensives.

Just one time, she told herself as she popped back the caffeine pill.

And again.

That was nearly half a year ago.

In the present, Angela stared up at the ceiling. Her mind racing still. It’d been hours. Countless hours of laying under the fresh sheets, wrapped up snug and toasty.

Nothing

Not an ounce of fatigue.

With a particularly violent jerk, she sent the sheets off the edge of the bed. Angela sat up and pressed a palm up to her forehead.

“Urghh…This is pointless!”

The young swiss woman glanced over to the left, her lab coat hanging from the doorway. A crease formed in her forehead, she spent most of today doing absolutely nothing but cleaning. But the mind-numbing physical activity was nothing compared to the work at the hospital.

No, she needed something more engaging and vigorous.

Angela’s gaze drifted over to the computer and grunted, making her way over and plopped down onto the exercise ball. Finger jabbing into the power button whilst rocking on top of the bouncy ball. The faint whirl of the fans did little to ease her pent-up frustration and racing mind. She tapped her fingers against the top of the plastic mouse.

“Mnnngh…Hurry up!”

Her fingers worked rapidly as the prompt for a password appeared. As the screen loaded and numerous icons blipped into view, she found herself at a loss for what to do. Would…Would she play a video game?

But she didn’t have any installed.

Watch a show perhaps?

Wouldn’t the television be better suited for such a purpose?

…More research?

That didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

She doubled clicked on the google chrome icon. As the browser loaded onto the screen, she hovered the mouse over the url and selected it. The history bar dropped down.

Angela’s cheeks flushed with heat again. She shook her head and clicked on the orange and black icon with a gripe. The video loaded with surprising speed; a mocha-skinned woman strode into view with another. Except her lighter-skinned companion was on all fours and collared with a metallic leash.

The video played through; a full thirty-minutes raced by as did the heat from her cheeks to groin. But Angela remained still, studying the video with intensity. How could one take so much pleasure from pain? No…no.

Wait, was the dominatrix enjoying any of that? There was hardly any actual intercourse.

Angela shook her head, that was the wrong question.

Rather, why did the lighter-skinned woman seem at such ease after the session. Like every worry in her world just…Melted away. Angela bit her lower lip and glanced off to the side, her foot performed rapid taps against the floor. Eyeing the bedside drawer. Cursing under her breath.

**“..Gopfertammi!”**

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

**“GOPFERTAMMI!”**

Drawing her arm back, she slung the vibrator at the wall and kicked the exercise ball with all her pent-up frustration. The ball rocketed to the wall before ricocheting into the ceiling and then into her skull.

“Ooof--! Oww…”

Angela collapsed to the ground with a grunt. She scowled at the ceiling for a minute before picking herself up. A wince crossed her soft features as she did. Her elbow throbbed.

Urghh, what was she doing with herself? Sitting up at 10:00PM on a Saturday and looking at pornography alone. If this wasn’t the absolute peak misery for a woman of her age and repute, she didn’t know what was. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration. And a rather large one at that.

A beaten sigh escaped her. 

Angela glanced over at the screen, a sense of defeat and shame ran down chest as her eyes came to a rest over the pale beauty on the screen. How she wished to switch places, head nestled into the lap of another with every worry in her hyperactive mind brushed away by those long digits.

Yes, yes. Everyone would argue that it was fake. But the woman on screen looked genuinely satisfied. If only such a service could be bought—

Angela’s spine stiffened.

Wait…Couldn’t it?

Surely this wasn’t just stuff of fantasy.

Such services did exist.

She licked her lips and swallowed. Rushing back to the computer, she bent by the hip and redirected to google. Her fingers tapped away with a sense of urgency.

It wasn’t like she had work tomorrow.

Or for the next thirteen days.

Maybe a late-night trip was the exact thing she required.

An immediate response from her search followed. The ratings were universally high, a quick squiz at the positive comments and feedback reflected it. Apart from the occasional if not obvious troll posts. it was perfect.

Even the name sounded fancy.

Double clicking on the website

Interesting…It doubled as a nightclub as well.

The bleached background flickered to a duskier, not too edgy. It oozed a sense of professionalism befitting of the establishment. On the frontpage, an event was advertised for the evening.

“ _Savvy Saturdays_ ”

She reasoned it would at least be interesting to check out.

Angela pivoted and leapt onto her bed to cross over. Yanking the wardrobe open with an air of excitement. Only to be greeted by rows of chalk white lab coats, plain white t-shirts and sky-blue jeans.

Her heart sank.

But then something dawned upon.

And a smile returned to her lips.

Well…It was a bit of a double entendre.

Yeah, in the hour ahead. She’d likely come to regret it.

But it was humorous to her now.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter is a couple hours later than promised.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> A full disclaimer, there was very little time to proofread, to make adjustments and edits. GMT+10 over here and I wanted to upload on an afternoon pacific time
> 
> And with it, a question to all of you! As this was the part that kept me up for hours.
> 
> How do you go about introducing a character? Because I struggle with it immensely, as the urge to checkpoint their physical attributes is overwhelming for me. I can't find a way to do so without it making it seem like a powerpoint presentation. It's extremely aggravating and I wish to improve on,
> 
> it's the same with room description, ordinarily I'd engage all five sense but for a short scene I don't feel like its worth all these extra details as it bogs down the progression.
> 
> So...Help a gal out?

Under the blue-black night sky, the distant stars twinkled like tiny snowflakes. The paved street well-lit yet empty. Fronts of numerous high-end stores still on display with limited lighting as if to entice a passer-by. Many could argue it was dangerous to roam the night streets as a lone woman. The swiss doctor disagreed in this instance.

It was a well-patrolled neighbourhood.

That much was evident when she stepped off the tram off the main street. Whilst it could’ve been indicative otherwise. Angela noticed a stark contrast between the police officers’ demeanours. Compared to the security force occasionally stationed in the medical centre in rare cases of high-risk patients.

These officers, less vigilant and easy going. Even offering reassuring smiles as they passed her by.

The air was remarkably clean. Not like the sharp disinfectant of the hospital but rather plain. Of nothing.

Plus, there wasn’t a soul in sight along this road.

The soothing silence provided a strange solace to the journey.

Although it did not last.

A buzz ran up Angela’s spine as the deep rhythmic bass of electronic music in the distance trickled in. Her long strides hastened into a quick brisk bounce. The T-intersection ahead revealed an astonishing sight.

In disbelief she ramped up to a slight jog.

Angela’s jaw trembled at the sight as she stood from the exit. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She scanned the incredulous structure with bewildered eyes. For a moment she

Across from her, rows of expensive vehicles ranging from Rolls Royce’s, Lamborghini’s and countless other luxury brands parked in full display. Like an extravagant car advertisement. Further behind, smooth and wide granite steps paved the path to the supposed nightclub. Flanking the wide steps was an impeccably well-maintained lawn.

Broad, grooved, immense.

Those were the words Angela could think of to describe the platinum grey pillars supporting the roof of the neoclassical palace-like building. They stood guard at the front of the architecture. Six to be exact, each stood apart of equal distance from other.

She estimated that the building itself took up at least half the block at the very least.

Was this the right place?

The swiss doctor swallowed the lump in her throat. Glancing both directions before moving to cross the boulevard. As she drew closer, coming to a halt at the edge of the sidewalk, the inquisitive gaze made a discovery.

Rows of china red rope queue barriers sealed off the sides of the pathway, shielding the lawn from the trample of indiscriminate footsteps. The sheer width of the steps required a pair of three separate individuals flanking the entrance to the steps to maintain order. At the front of each trio was a stunning female equipped with an electronic tablet guarded by two burly security guards each equipped with polarized lenses.

This was closer to a red-carpet event than a night club.

Suddenly the excitement faded. But a trickle of curiosity kept her from departing.

She was clearly far too underdressed for such an establishment.

Angela slapped herself mentally for having the gall to come equipped in work uniform.

That’s right.

Angela thought herself clever to come as she was. As a ‘Savvy’ doctor.

Still it wouldn’t hurt to at least try…Right? And if that failed, at least acquire a better understanding what would be acceptable.

Since arrival her eyes had been glued to the building and its surroundings. But now the buzz of the queue began to drown out the bass and music. It drew her eyes to the source closest. The river of people queued up on either side

An almost inexplicable relief washed over as her eyes fell upon the large queue. Within the crowd stood a wide variety of decorated individuals. From casual to business. Every kind of dresswear seemed appropriate.

The air was electrifying.

Angela performed a doubletake, there were even military?!

She squinted at the uniforms and leaned inward. It didn’t seem like a cheap fake either. It helped they fit the bill for one. Shaved or short hair, their posture tall, confident, a decent balance of muscle and build. Two Caucasians and an Asian.

“Hey….Hey! Line’s over that way.”

A modulated feminine voice called. Their accent gentle, a lack of stress upon vowels. Spanish, perhaps…Mexican? It took a second for the words directed at her to register.

The swiss woman’s gaze fell upon the hostess, sporting a short high fade with streaks of neon purple running along the length of the fade with shoulder length tips matching. The hostess flashed a disarming, mischievous smile.

It reminded her of Lena’s when she was up to one of her crueller pranks.

“O-Oh, sorry. Uhm….Thanks”

Angela bobbed a thanks and faced left towards the direction the hand guided. Lifting onto her tippy toes, searching for the end. Her eyebrows shot up.

“ _Goodness! I can’t even see it from here.”_

Angela’s thoughts lingered, maybe this was a mistake after all…

“Better _hurry_. The line gets longer as the night drags on~”

The hostess teased, as if to make a point she tapped her finger against the tablet. A brief flash erupted from the device.

Angela eyelashes fluttered rapidly.

_“Did…Did she just take my picture?”_

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Countless times now, the same back and forth with Angela wrestled with her own mind.

“ _I should just go home. Its been nearly an hour and I still can’t see the line. And I-”_

The workaholic side reasoned.

“ _No, you don’t! You have nothing else on tomorrow or for the next fourteen days. Wouldn’t you rather have some fun?”_

The…Stupid side? retorted.

“ _Yes, standing in line for an hour in a crowded heap is the dictionary definition of fun, Angela.”_

“ _Just think about it…From what everyone around you is saying, it is definitely worth the wait.”_

The doctor grunted and shook her head, she had started counting somewhere around the tenth step and since then the amount totalled up to…Eighteen?

A couple of clubbers attempted to make small talk with, and she returned the attempts at conversation with short, polite and quick answers. It didn’t take long for them to lose interest and return to their own group.

Angela rubbed her cheek, the strain of polite but awkward smiling taking its toll. A small knot formed in her tummy as a sudden realization hit.

“ _Meine G_ _üte…I’m really terrible at socialising outside of work.”_

The apartment did seem like a more appealing option now.

At that moment, two indiscriminate men passed the other side of the queue barrier and came to a halt at the end of the line. Angela’s gaze followed; they were dressed as if prepped for surgery. It piqued her interest, perhaps she wasn’t the only one who thought of coming as their profession? After all…It did fulfil the definition of _savvy._

“Oh man, I can’t wait to get in tonight. Bruv, I’ve been reading up on surgery all day! Can’t wait to earn some brownie points with Dr. O’Deorain!”

The man slapped his friend on the back and shook him.

“That’s wild! I should have done that….”

“Don’t worry, mate. I got you! Here if anyone asks, you let them know the difference between local anaesthetic and general….”

Angela stared off to the other side of the boulevard, tawny eyebrows knitted into a deep frown as she continued to eavesdrop. Her fist clenched into a tight ball around the collar of her lab coat.

What!?

General anaesthetic not applying stress on the body?! A simple procedure?!

Such a course took at least minimum twelve to fifteen years to complete!

_“ **What is this idiocy that I am hearing!?”**_

These two couldn’t possibly—

Absolute posers!

As the seconds ticked by, the corner of her eyes began to twitch into a grimace, and teeth gnashed. The inside of her mouth turned sour.

“ _Benzoca—!? THE-THESE IDIOTS DON’T EVEN KNOW THE INGREDIENTS IN GENERAL ANESTHETIC! NO! **NO! NO! You’ve got the Pentothal or thiopentone’s is for INDUCTION. THOSE ARE THE ONES THAT KNOCK YOU OUT--! YOU’VE GOT THEM MIXED AROUND! BENZOCAINE IS FOR LOCAL!”**_

A husky voice interrupted her murderous internal rant.

“ **Ah!** There you are—Whoa…!”

Angela jolted a little.

“Wha-huh?”

It was the hostess. She managed to amble over from the other side of the tape. From here, Angela could make out the brand. _Samsung._ Its light illuminated her caramel skin, accentuating the dark eyeliner and mascara drawing attention to her violet irises.

“You alright there, chica?” She leaned in with a cheeky smirk, finger jutting up to prod against the underside of Angela’s chin. “Look like ya about to murder someone.”

“O-Oh…Hi again…Uhm, yeah I’m fine. I was just listening to something that was…” Angela trailed off, smacking her lips to the side. She reached up to rub the back of her neck, the same one that was clenching tightly at her lab coat seconds earlier. Answering with a wince. “Incorrect.”

The hostess chuckled. “Oh yeah? And what might that be?” Violet irises shifting off to the side, scanning the crowd before lifting a finger up to silence her. Glancing back and forth between the two gentleman whom still carried on their loud lecture and her.

Without a word the club hostess gestured with the same finger used to silence her towards them with a quirked brow.

Angela realised her expression may have given away the answer.

The doctor replied with a reluctant bob. Observing the hostess take a step back and inspect her dresswear before repeating to the gentlemen. The purple irises locked onto the id card clipped onto the breast pocket of her coat.

“Wait—You’re not an actual.” The shorter, presumably Mexican rushed over to inspect. Blinking thrice before tilting her head back and a loud guffaw. “Did—Did? OHHH this is AMAZING! I LOVE IT! Get on over here!” She gave a light tug on her wrist.

Angela pinched the back of her neck, offering a nervous chuckle in turn.

“What…Like, get out of the queue?”

The youthful woman clapped her hands together, still giggling to herself. “Yeah! Yeah, come on, over here you go.” She grasped the rope and lifting it up, beckoning with the tablet.

Angela felt a pout forming on her lips as she complied, ducking underneath the queue barrier as a sea of attention turned to focus on.

“D’awww, you’re a cutie. It’s your lucky day… Moira will absolutely ADORE you—” The hostess pulled her over to her right side before pausing mid-comment before twisting around to the two dressed in scrubs. “ **You two idiots, in the scrubs! Get over _here!_ Mamá’s feeling generous”**

Angela was dumbstruck. At a complete loss for words. What the heck was she planning to do? She flinched as the hostess turned back to her and requested with a honeyed tone. Suddenly the shorter female seemed to be a touch more intimidating than her height credited.

“Name and phone number please.”

“Uhh…uhh—” Angela stammered back dumbly. The back of her leg erupted into tiny itches.

 **“** Wait, silly me. **_Dr. Ziegler…Your id badge is right there.”_** The hostess recalled with a faint smirk; with a tiny jerking motion she pinched the card free from the clip. Entering the details with practiced taps of her fingers. “Aaaaand… **Done! Tell the two-lovely gentleman in suits at the front that Olivia Colomar sent you.”**

Angela stiffened on the spot as the hostess by the name of Olivia clipped her ID badge to her pocket. “Uhh—Okay?” The inner corners of her brows drew up, she performed an unsure 180 and took a cautious step forward.

“ **Wait!”**

Angela whipped around and snapped still. Opting to remain silent

Olivia silenced the two excited men with a backwards flick of her hand. The corner of her mischievous lips tweaking “Just to be sure…You are here for **both** services, correct?”

“Y..Yeah..?”

“ **Excellent!”** Olivia tucked the tablet under her armpit and clapped both hands together. Seemingly pleased with the response. Gesturing down the road, **“On your way now, be sure to mention my name!”**

Angela swore she saw the ghost of a harlequin smile on Olivia’s features

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

“Uhm…Olivia Colomar sent me?”

Her voice was squeaky.

The burly man to Angela’s left lifted the touchpad with his spade-like hands, the device looking almost like a phone in comparison. He inspected it before turning to his partner with a nod. The two parted ways with uncanny precision. Extending their hand to the building filled with rave lights and bass-heavy electronic.

Aqua eyes darted between them, each one at least two metres tall.

Angela took a hesitant step forward, testing the waters. As if dipping her toes into a pond. She double checked with a quick glance.

They remained still, like statues.

By leaning forward, she planted herself between them.

Again, no reaction.

With a tiny shrug she stepped past. And sea of envious eyes trailing after.

They pivoted towards the building and clasped their hands behind their backs, their jet-black oxfords clicked against the paved stone. Such unison startled the poor doctor and elicited a yelp.

“We shall escort you to the reception, Dr. Ziegler.” The voice hoarse and gruff, emanating from her left.

Angela swallowed and responded with a mere nod. Setting down the path with the men in tow, their footsteps trailed after in unison. With each step, the hypnotizing beat of electronic music drew closer. It felt like the very floor shook, like every being within the palace-like building stomped their foot. Reverberating in her chest.

She fought the urge to cover her ears.

The paned window doors to the entrance parted upon their presence. Golden yellow strip lights mounted along the ceiling line illuminated a grand reception. Behind a small podium reception desk stood a sharply dressed lady, whom couldn’t have been more than a couple years apart. The black glittery dress revealed tapered shoulders and contrasted her albino-white hair and crimson irises.

 _“Fancy!”_ It was the only thought that crossed Angela’s mind.

By black magic trickery, the deafening music lowered to a tolerable level.

A melodic sweet southern belle accent greeted.

“Ah, welcome to Le Château. We are so pleased to have your presence. If you’ll please follow the path to y’all’s left.” She stepped off to the side and gestured to a hallway sealed by a retractable tape queue barrier as outside. The lack of elevation placed them of roughly equal height, if not for the expensive open toe faux suede heels.

_“Huh?”_

Perhaps the numerous years of nightshifts and drunken patients following weekend nights, did yield some results. At least she knew what kind of shoes they were…

The receptionist crossed over to the crimson tape in long strides and with practiced movements, unsealed the barrier with a quiet _snap!_ In similar fashion she gestured inward. Her tone turned honeyed, bowing ever so slightly with painted lips drawing into a roguish smile.

“If you would be so _kind.”_

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

In the instant the door parted, Angela Ziegler knew she was in over her head.

A multi-level bar lounge revealed itself.

An impossible to describe sight for her limited vocabulary. The walls and floors seemingly soundproofed as the door clasped shut behind, the rhythmic beat of music was all but silenced. A high-end bar counter with shimmering LED lights ran parallel to the lengthy hallway.

And unlike the blaring electronic riffs, thrums and bass of drums.

Harmonious, sophisticated and calming classical music wandered over, as if easing her bruised ear drums.

Expensive alcohol and polished leather tickled her nostrils.

The patrons appeared to be well-mannered and sophisticated, though the dress code varied wildly. Some were garbed in business appropriate attire others in highly fetishized copies of professions. If not a touch quiet and less lively than expected with the immense crowd outside.

As she explored, Angela’s path was cut-off by an imposing figure. The shadow cast over her triggered a startled jump from; with cheeks set ablaze, she began to mumble an apology.

“Sor—”

“ **Who** is this?” Confident but not arrogant, rich bordering on indulgent and resonant. Like dark chocolate melting on your tongue. Angela snapped her gaze onto.

“..ry…”

A pair of close-set hickory eyes as rich as the earth’s soil with matching syrup skin stared down at the young doctor with an inquisitive scrutiny, adorned in a sleek form-fitted men’s suit and bent by the hip to poise over. Below their right eyelid was an inked tattoo.

“Ma’am. Miss Colomar sent her.” A gruff voice answered from behind.

“Olivia? **Why?** ” Their gaze flicked away, head tilting back and revealing a balanced and pointed chin.

He cleared his throat before answering.

“Ahem…For madame O’Deorain.”

The gaze slid back onto Angela, despite the distance between them, she was bent backwards by the taller figure. Hands held up in mimic surrender. They remained silent. Without breaking away she dismissed the men with a faint signal.

A brief blast of electronic music followed.

Their right arm extended forward smoothly.

“…… **Fareeha.** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! 
> 
> Please leave a comment and a suggestion! :>


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The third chapter has arrived!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> Jeez, I feel like I need to apologise because this chapter was a bit of a slow one. Although, there will be a time-skip following the next chapter. Or maybe the one after, I'm not sure, depends on how much I progress the story in the next chapter.
> 
> What did you all think of Moira? Did I capture her personality right?
> 
> Also, I lowkey think Sombra & Moira might make a fantastic couple, seeing as they both seem to be in it for themselves in the lore. Two cutthroats. Like two peas in a pod!

Maybe the Valium was taking its toll.

Dr. Ziegler’s throat worked at the lump in her throat. Eyes squeezing shut into a rapid blink. A grainy film had coated her eyes and the world was a blur for but a split second What the heck just happened?

Just a minute ago she had entered the supposed BDSM dungeon only to discover a rather delightful bar lounge. Then…Then what happened?

Had it only been a minute?

Everything happened in a blur.

“Dr. Ziegler? Are you quite alright?”

The euphonious voice queried across from.

Angela’s hands darted up to her eyes, thumb and middle finger massaging vigorously. Offering a jittery apology at the same time.

“Ugh— Ah yes, yes. Sorry, I’m quite fine. Where were we?”

“ **Really…?** I hope you realise that doubling forward whilst rubbing your eyes does not inspire much confidence. Especially when you’re attempting to roleplay as a doctor.”

There was a hint of coy satire. Angela paused mid-massage. Sucking in a deep breath. As they continued.

Wait, she couldn’t even recall their name.

“Especially when I’ve so graciously offered to act as an experimental patient.”

Angela withdrew her hand and peered up with a quizzical tilt. Between them was a small oval LED lit coffee table.

“What do you mean? Ms. Uhhh..”

“ **Amari.** ”

The doctor cleared her throat and inclined her head forward.

“Ms. Amari. I’m puzzled. Why are we doing this?”

“As you claimed to be quite an experienced individual. This establishment ought to verify your capabilities, as Dr. O’Deorain is quite a popular request. She tends to only accept regulars, and those whom are experienced. As Sombra is still relatively inexperienced, I shall vet you personally.” 

Angela’s brows tugged into a light frown.

“Oh—I…I’m confused, so is this Dr…O’Deorain was it? Is she a real doctor? Or are we just roleplaying.”

Ms. Amari leaned back into the cream cushioned seat. Elegant digits crossing over each other and rested on top of crossed knees. Their rather expressionless features did little to ease.

“She is. That being part of her exquisite charm. **But—** Seeing as you wish to engage in activities and roleplay wi--”

“I’m a real doctor--”

The words blurted out of Angela’s mouth before she could contain the unconscious thought and action. Thought she didn’t know why it was supposed to be a secret, her eyes widened with shock as if revealing something dark.

Ms. Amari’s brows shot up, a humorous rush of air seemed to pump through her chest and into the shoulders.

“Wait. So that ID badge is legitimate?”

“N…No. I…” Angela swallowed, aqua eyes flitting about the bar. “I am a surgeon at Garden City Medical centre.” Tearing the card away from her jacket pocket and extended it forward.

The lady plucked it from and raised it up to head height. From Angela’s angle it covered up the front of delightful features. Corner of their eyebrow raising up as they inspected it. “Well I’ll be…” A smirk tweaked at the corner of their dark painted lips. “Moira just has all the luck.”

Where was all this saliva coming from!?

Angela swallowed again. Head bobbing from the sheer effort. She summoned all her pride and ego in a shrill response.

“Y-Yeah, so as you can see. I…I’m not roleplaying a doctor at all! I’m the real deal!”

The identification was placed against the coffee table with a quiet ‘click’ followed by the quiet rasp of laminated plastic against its surface. Coming to an off-angle halt just before Angela’s end.

Ms. Amari’s mien reflected the slightest glimpse of humour.

“I stand corrected. It is a rather fitting theme given the rising popularity of medical play.”

“Uhh….”

“You didn’t know? I suppose there is a certain taboo, especially of the sexy nurse or the depraved—”

Angela stared on dumbly before interjecting

“What’s medical play?”

Ms. Amari expressed mild surprise; their lips parted as if to speak. A moment passed; hickory eyes narrowed in suspicion. Head tilted back to reveal the underside of her slender neck.

“Remind me, Dr. Ziegler. When I asked you earlier pertaining to your experience? Were you answering truthfully?”

“Y..Yeah…?”

“I see. I suppose you were answering in relation to your experience as a doctor?”

“Uh huh…”

“And not your experience as a submissive or domme?”

“A dome?” Angela recoiled at the bizarre position. Why would anyone want to be a rounded structure?

“Yes, a female dominant.”

“Oh.” It clicked then. That made sense. Angela lowered her gaze to stare at the identification card. Self-conscious of her lacking data.

“To be clear, you are an experienced surgeon, whom has completed both a residency and fellowship with absolute zero knowledge, practice or skill in BDSM?”

Angela nearly produced a startled yelp.

The Arabic woman proved to be quite well informed in her field.

The sheer shock rendered Angela speechless, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish’s. She promptly gave up and instead opted for a defeated nod. It was only then did she recall their first name.

**_Fareeha. Fareeha Amari._ **

“I see…”

Silence settled between.

Conversation from their surrounding trickled in to fill the void of speech. Angela’s heart thumped in her chest. Being thrown out and rejected was never a great sensation. But even with logic and reason it did little to blunt the sinking feeling in her stomach.

A gentle hand squeezed against Angela’s shoulder. An amused huff came from above.

Angela understood; she placed both hands against the cushioned seat and shuffled forward to stand up. As she rose, the hand slipped across to her chin and seized. It wasn’t rough but sudden.

Heat seeped through the smooth leather, while the grip steadily directed her gaze to meet Fareeha's. Rendering her paralysed from the waist down.

Fareeha’s expression had softened, lips drawn into a gentle smile. Like a mother would to a child.

Her heart jolted. As if a static shock passed through her entire being and zapped the organ directly.

“My apologies, doctor. I did not mean to come off confrontational. Forgive me but I find your candid nature pleasantly refreshing.” Fareeha tilted off to the side, examining Angela’s side with a faint sparkle. “Unfortunately, your request for Dr. O’Deorain will have to be denied.”

“Oh. Uhmm..”

Fareeha continued sincerely, “But you are most welcome to remain and enjoy the other privileges offered to our members. Dr. O’Deorain is quite a peculiar individual and rarely accepts fresh faces. The rest of our staff however would be honoured to make your acquaintance. I personally would be-”

 **“Hmm…** **Perculiar am I, Fareeha?”**

The thumb against Angela’s chin pressed deeper for a split second. A disturbed shudder rippled through the caramel woman.

Fareeha pirouetted to Angela’s side, confronting the new face with a growl. Fists clenched and raised like a boxer’s, her posture remained stiff and upright, however.

“ **What the—Moira!** What did I say about groping my ass without **MY** permission?!” Fareeha demanded, lowering her fists and crossing her arms together with a glare.

An Irish ginger with impish heterochromia stood with a smug grin. The carrot hair slicked back with a faint right part. Mismatched red and blue eyes twinkled with mischief. A quiet chortle escaped from.

Angela placed the accent, Irish.

“ **My _dear_** , you certainly didn’t seem to mind during our last **_playdate._** ” The woman addressed as Moira raised her fingers into the air and curling them for inspection.

“ **One time.** _It was just one bloody time.”_ Fareeha’s voice seemed to shrink, the initial annoyance passing. Instead a faint blush bloomed across their cheeks as they broke their gaze away and shifted their weight.

Moira ambled over, elbow tucked into the palm of their hand and uncurling lean digits. Garbed in a buttoned-up lab coat, underneath Angela could make out a spotted black dress shirt and tie. “Hmm. A night I shall cherish.” They teased before turning their attention towards Angela. “ **Now.** Tell me, whom I won’t accept on the basis of being a fresh face?”

Angela was taken aback as Fareeha slid across; their arm intercepted the other doctor.

“ **No _!_** You’re ill-suited with newcomers, the last one was traumatized enough by your wild antics.”

Moira hesitated, tilting her head to the side slightly. A long sigh escaped from. “I suppose…”

“ **Suppose? SUPPOSE?** Who the heck administers an inoculation on their first visit to a dungeon?!”

“Hey! She asked for the authentic experience—”

Fareeha shook her head, raven black bob cut trailing after. “No. Nope! This one’s off limits.”

The drawn back shoulders drooped followed by a fatigued lament. “But I am bored…That silly sombra sent me two idiots.” Moira jerked a thumb back over her shoulder. “They managed to confuse Benzocaine as a barbiturate.”

Angela leaned to the side and peered past. It was the same two gentlemen from the queue, dressed as surgeons. Both sported a remarkably sharp handprint on their left cheeks. Their heads were tilted down like obedient serfs.

Fareeha raised a gloved hand to cradle her forehead with an exasperated exhale.

“Moira—I have no idea what you’re talking about--!”

“I do! Benzocaine is an ingredient often used in lozenges and commonly in local anaesthesia. Barbiturates such as thiopentone and thiopental are utilized in general anaesthetic as central nervous system depressants!”

Butterflies erupted In Angela’s stomach as she answered matter-of-factly. The little teacher’s pet inside of her stuck their nose proudly in the air.

The Irish woman’s alarmed gaze delivered a glimmer of hope. A wide grin broke out across their features. Throwing both arms into the air over their head.

“Correct! Finally! Someone who speaks English!” Moira exclaimed, pushing past Fareeha to envelop her fellow intellectual peer.

A hint of aromatic citrus. The scent was light and inoffensive.

Fareeha groaned.

“Is…Is that what just happened?”

Angela squeaked in the embrace.

Moira finished the embrace, clasping her by the forearms and turned. Their eyes wide like a child’s at Christmas, “Can I keep—"

**_“_ NO.” **

Fareeha shot a withering glare at.

 _“I should probably keep quiet about Ms. Colomar’s recommendation”_ Angela supposed.

“You’re no fun.” Moira grumbled and released the Swiss woman. She addressed Angela, “Do drop by sometime, I would love to indulge myself in a pleasant and nourishing conversation with you…Ms…” Her eyes narrowed, inspecting the female before her. Like a scientist would to a lab rat.

Angela stiffened. “Dr…Dr. Ziegler, I work at Garden City Medical Centre. Uhh. Surgeon.” Suddenly, she was aware of the many curious gazes aimed towards the trio. “M-My ID is on the table, right there.” She pointed downward.

Moira inclined her head and flashed a smirk, “Dr. Ziegler.” She retracted the hand against Angela’s left forearm and grasped the clammy limb. “Moira O’Deorain. Geneticist. Please drop by my office the next time Ms. Amari isn’t here to intrude.”

Angela retracted her hand, wiping it hastily against her coat before shaking.

The geneticist let loose a soft chuckle. “How adorable.” She pivoted to the still fuming Arabic woman. “Now, I suppose I shall go entertain myself by punishing that little Sombrat.”

“Wha—She’s working as a hostess tonight. Don’t—Hey listen to me!” Fareeha nearly yelled as Moira paraded past. An incensed gasp escaped as she doubled back towards the blonde doctor. Hurriedly apologizing with a gentle grasp on their forearm. “Sorry—Please, make yourself at home. Have a drink, it’s on the house—” Fareeha raised her gaze past Angela. “Baptiste! Fetch this young lady a drink.” She offered a frail beam. “I won’t be long.”

Raven tresses whipped in the air as they hurried after the Irish troublemaker.

A brief whiff of Jasmine tickled her senses.

“…Okay.”

Angela mumbled shortly after they had already departed, she blinked hard; heat pricking her ears.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

“Ma’am? Ma’am? **_Madam!_** ”

Angela yelped, nearly slipping off the bar stool.

Was she daydreaming--? She didn’t recall even sitting down.

Much less so by the bar counter.

Traces of lemon juice, bitter pine and sweetness lingered.

Angela glanced down, a long tall glass with a little umbrella sat on top of a coaster. Adorned with a whirly straw.

“Dr. Ziegler was it? May I call you that?”

The same basso tone voice inquired, drawing closer. He leaned against the counter from across, a thin line of concern creased his forehead.

“Oh. Yes, Dr. Ziegler is fine, Angela even if you prefer.”

Angela responded enthusiastically.

Dark-skinned and well-built, he filled out his vest amicably. Muscled forearms bulged against the white dress shirt despite his relaxed stance. He flashed a pearly white smile and a flick of his wrist into the air.

“Angela it is then. I am Jean but all my friends call me Baptiste. If I may ask, are you quite alright?”

A small pout formed followed by a quizzical frown across Angela. Puzzled by the question.

“I think so. Why do you ask?”

He smacked his lips to the side and stared off to another corner of the room.

“Well, I was just explaining what was in a long island iced tea at your request. But you seemed to be drifting off into space. And not lightly either.”

His deep voice was soothing. Everything about him invited one to open up.

“Ah…” Angela bit her lower lip and slouched, staring at the tall glass. “It seems to be happening more and more often lately.” She rubbed the side of her neck and continued, “Just earlier, with uhm…Fareeha?” Glancing at him for confirmation

Baptiste bobbed his head, his gaze drifting back.

“I think I blanked out then as well. Shortly after she stopped me at the door.”

“Hmm… That does sound problematic.” He scratched at the stubble around his chin, “Do you have any medication that you require? I’m sure Dr. O’Deorain could write a prescription if needed.”

“This establishment possesses a domestic license to supply controlled drugs?” Angela jerked her head back quickly. She couldn’t help but ponder on how bizarre it was for such a business to be able to act as a pseudo pharmaceutical.

“Yes, of course. Dr. O’Deorain is a fully qualified doctor after all.” He offered an innocent if not a touch naïve smile. The smile faltered after a moment at her agape stare. “So, do you have an existing prescription?”

“Ah—Yes, but I have my medication with me already. It’s for anxiety.” Angela rummaged into her coat pocket, retrieving the pill bottle. With practiced movement, tipping out a pill onto her palm and prepared to knock it back.

A hand darted out, lightning quick and seized her by the wrist. Eliciting a short squeak and a flinch.

It was Baptiste.

“Angela—Are you sure? Medicine and alcohol seldom go well.”

He was right.

A grimace pinched Angela's expression.

It was seldom, Angela would describe herself as an idiot. But tonight? Certainly. She cleared her throat and swallowed. Her ears burned from the embarrassment.

Dark synth electronic music disturbed the gentle classical for but a split second.

“Yes…Yes you’re right, Baptiste. A slip of the mind, I..I don’t normally partake in alcohol.”

The pill tipped onto the counter, rolling in a tiny circle until its momentum faded.

His grip remained, as if hesitating. He searched into her gaze with a faint squint before releasing the slender wrist.

“Good. Good.” Baptiste affirmed, reassuring himself. “We’re all human, mistakes are bound to happen.” He confiscated the tall glass and raised it up beside his head, “Can I interest you in another?”

Angela licked her lips, tucking the bottle into the coat pockets again. As she was about to answer, she noted his gaze flicking past her.

A familiar voice interrupted.

“Better make that **_two_** , Baptiste.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a great time writing this chapter.
> 
> Especially because we get to tease our favourite blonde doctor!
> 
> And for other reasons which thou shall discover as they read this chapter.
> 
> Come on, you know me at this point. Can you guess why?
> 
> Oh and please read the end note!

Fareeha had returned; the suit jacket removed and slung over her shoulder, revealing a grey vest and white dress shirt underneath. A relaxed smile graced her cool and stoic features. She rested an elbow against the counter and shot Baptiste a look.

“Right away, Ms. Amari.”

The male bartender let loose a chuckle and turned away, the clink of glass, ice and the slosh of liquids trickled to replace the quiet.

Distant conversation a faint buzz in the background.

Angela was about to speak when the doors swung open with a loud crack. Again, the synth music seeped in to disturb the calming atmosphere. A couple guests gasped at the sight.

“ **RELEASE ME! DAMMIT CHICA!”**

Moira swaggered in with Olivia thrown over her shoulder.

The hostess from earlier raising a significant tantrum as she cried for release. A tired sigh emanated from Angela’s side, Fareeha was shaking her head.

Olivia continued to kick and flail atop the geneticist’s shoulder, whom paid no mind.

“ **WHEN I GET FREE, I’LL KICK YOU IN THE CONCHA—EEP!!”**

Moira’s hand darted up with a sharp and swift spank landed upon the perky bottom of the Mexican, eliciting a jerk and a buck of their hips. The smack possessed enough force to reverberate in the room. The pale hand rested against the buttocks, patting lightly as a sullen silence fell over Olivia.

A couple cheers followed from the guests. They seemed to share an inside joke, exchanging knowing glances.

Angela just stared on as Moira crossed from one end of the room towards the hallway, the mismatched eyes gliding over to meet as she neared the beginning of the hall. A smug smirk pulled at the corner of their lips as she disappeared behind the wall.

“Again?”

Baptiste’s voice interrupted with an amused tenor. He placed a coaster in front of Fareeha before setting the drinks atop each respective mat.

“Yes…Again. Haaaa..” Fareeha sighed, cupping her forehead between forefinger and thumb.

Angela’s facial muscles had gone slack from the casual display. Her eyes darted between the two, searching for an answer or at least an explanation.

Fareeha glanced over, under the shadow of her palm. She gave a shrug and elaborated.

“Olivia used to be Moira’s personal submissive.”

Angela continued to shoot her with non-existent question marks.

“As in, before she joined us as an employee. They have a history. She’s an uppity one.”

Baptiste added with a tiny, amused shake of his head.

“Ohhh…Wait—So they’re both gay?” Angela tipped her head back in understanding.

“Bisexual, Doctor. As are most of our staff.” Fareeha corrected, gesturing to herself. “Myself included. He’s straight though” She turned the thumb to Baptiste.

“You’re a dominatrix?!”

“Mnngk— **BAHA!** ” Baptiste failed to hold back the loud guffaw. He clapped his stomach with a large hand.

Fareeha twisted her head away and poorly hid the amusement.

Angela cringed, a flush crept across her cheeks. Now would’ve been a great time to consume the little tablet atop the bar counter.

“Oh—Hahahee I apologize Angela” Baptiste wiped at the corner of his eye, his shoulder pumped up and down lightly. It took nearly half a minute for the duo to settle before he explained. He presented his palm upward and out to the side, “Dominatrix is for a female dominant; I’d be what you call a dominant.”

Fareeha reached over and clapped the swiss woman on the back gently. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. Happens more than you think.”

Angela found it difficult to believe her, the corner of their lips was twitching quite visibly still.

“Aww don’t pout Angela. Fareeha, why don’t you go give our little doctor a tour of Le Chateau’s dungeons and cells?” Baptiste shot a wink at the gloved female.

“D-Dungeon and cells?!”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

A plain white double bed with their own respective bedside tables. It looked like any motel bedroom bar the windows and curtains. The walls painted mahogany red and refurbished wooden planks lined the floor. At the foot of the bed event sat a rather luxurious looking rug.

Fareeha stood tall, heels clicked together and off to the side, her gloved handheld out towards the room as if presenting it. Well, she was presenting it.

Angela couldn’t help but ponder how dashing the Arabic woman could’ve been as a man in such a get up. Not that she was complaining. By all accounts she was already a striking specimen, someone that could’ve been on the cover of magazines.

Even her own checklist for what she found attractive in a woman had been ticked off.

“Innocent enough, no?” Fareeha queried.

Angela stepped into the room gingerly, as if afraid the door would shut behind her and a row of bars would seal her escape. It took a minute before she answered.

“Y..Yeah! This isn’t so bad, I thought actual dungeons and—”

“Oh, we do have those.” Fareeha tilted her head to the side with an amused twinkle in their hickory eyes. “But I figured since you’re a fresh face, it’d be best to start you off with a tour of something less…Disturbing?” She waved her arm to the exit and beckoned to continue the tour.

“Ha…” Angela obliged and followed; her lips pursed together as they traversed the winding hallway. Each time they passeda doorway, Fareeha would inspect the electronic pad mounted like a plaque before revealing it. Angela guessed it was to check the occupancy.

Most rooms seemed innocent enough, some followed certain themes. Like medieval, medical or futuristic. Others elicited gasps as they contained unapologetic perversion and horrors.

Angela had never seen a stockade in person until today. The large wooden blocks were far more intimidating than she gave them credit for. Admittedly it had been one of her interests to be bound up or restrained. At the _mercy_ of another.

But she found herself questioning the idea as the tour continued. Now it just appeared to be chilling rather than erotic.

As they toured through the seemingly endless hallways, the soothing classic music trickled back. A clear signal that the tour was coming to an end. Angela mustered up her courage.

“So uhm…Thank you. For tonight.”

“Hm?” Fareeha paused mid-stride.

Angela stepped ahead and turned her back towards the music.

“I just wanted to say…Thanks, I..Uhh…Get the notion that this isn’t a common thing.”

Fareeha shifted her weight to the side with a sly smile.

“Is this what you call a doctor’s intuition, Dr. Ziegler?”

Angela held her hands out in front of her.

“Please, call me Angela! And…I guess so?”

Fareeha ambled over to the wall of the hallway and leant against the stone. Arms crossed underneath her chest.

“Alright Angela, care to share what gave it away?”

The swiss doctor remained rooted in the centre of the hallway, she touched a finger to her own chin and sunk into thought.

“Hmm…I guess it was the interview? This place seems to be rather exclusive. Oh—And the way you…” Angela trailed off as she recalled Fareeha tilting her chin up. She licked her lips and cleared her throat.

“And the way I what, Angela?” Fareeha quizzed with a knowing smirk.

“Uhh..N-Nevermind!” The swiss woman stammered out, plucking at the hem of coat.

“Heh. Well you’re not wrong. Most of our staff possess years of experience under their belt, even then, they are all required to go under additional training That long line out there is mostly for the club as Le Chateau’s services are usually restricted to members only. ” Fareeha inclined her head, “But, we do make the occasional exceptions. Such as yourself. They are few and far between however.”

Angela’s cheeks blossomed just like her curiosity.

“How…How does one usually apply to be a member?”

Fareeha shrugged nonchalantly.

“By application, in person or online. Or a recommendation. Ah—Of course, a vouch from an existing member carries significant weight.” She pushed off from the wall, slinking over to the doctor.

Angela retreated as they drew nearer, threatening her personal space. With each step forward, she matched it backward. Until her back collided with a particularly pointy stone slab. Fareeha continued until they were mere inches apart, their hips about a ruler apart.

Fareeha slipped her right free of the leather accessory with her left, pressing the naked digit to the underside of Angela’s pointed chin. Large up-turned eyes grew half-lidded, the smirk balanced into a beguiling smile.

“I take it you are interested in becoming a member?”

Angela tipped her head back to maintain the gaze, her own almond shaped eyes widening. The warmth from the fingertip sent an electrifying tingle down her spine. Her breath quickened in sluggish increments.

“Well?” Fareeha leaned in further, their lips mere inches apart, voice husky. “Dr. **_Ziegler._** ”

“Y..Yis.” Angela squeaked out. Oh—There went her legs, just like that. Putty.

Fareeha chuckled and brushed her lips against the doctor’s jawline. Purring.

“ _Good.”_

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

 _“H..Huh? W-What am I doing on the floor?”_ Angela pondered anxiously as she came to. Fareeha’s voice emanated from above and to her right.

“Ah, back to your senses. Angela?”

“Wha--?”

A mocha hand came to view.

“Take my hand.”

Angela accepted the offer, the silky-smooth touch compared to her own clammy palms made her stomach knot and twist. Her legs wobbled and buckled underneath her own weight. Licking her lips.

“T-Thanks.”

Fareeha returned it with a disarming grin.

“Not a problem. Now, shall we go and register Le Chateau’s newest addition?”

Puzzled by the question.

“But I thought I needed to apply first?”

“Ah yes, did I not clarify? A vouch from senior staff,” Fareeha signalled to her chest. “Is grounds for instant approval.”

“Y-You’re senior?!”

“Well, I am head of security.”

Angela’s jaw slackened.

“Hm? What? A woman can’t oversee sec—?”

“Nononono!” Angela waved her hands in front of her frantically. “J-Just, you…You look so young.”

“Aw. That’s sweet of you, doctor. I’m twenty-seven. But I find that experience triumphs over age, any day of the week. Shall we walk?” Fareeha released her hand and stepped past, remarking. “And here I thought that tonight would be boring.”

“Wait—So you’re younger than me?!”

“Hm? Am I? You’re quite young yourself, are you not?”

“I…I’m twenty-eight.”

“Lovely, I prefer older partners.”

The nonchalant comment set Angela ‘s cheeks ablaze.

“Wait, so does everyone here have a secondary role? Baptiste is a dominant but he’s working as a bartender?”

“More or less. It saves on costs and often we enjoy such tasks. Olivia loves the spotlight, Baptiste enjoys testing new concoctions, Moira genuinely does care for the wellbeing of others . In her own weird way. In my case, I moonlight as a dominatrix.”

“Huh!?”

Fareeha shot an amused glance over her shoulder. “What? I’m picky about my partners. And managing rowdy drunken idiots both here and in the nightclub is just as important.”

“T..True.”

Angela didn’t dare to speak anymore lest to embarrass herself further.

And after a short minute the duo found themselves back in the multi-floor bar lounge.

A captivating sight greeted them, stepping down from the circular staircase aside of the entrance.

Willowy yet somehow possessing ample shape where it mattered. Long legs befitting for a ballerina and high cheekbones, sharp enough to cut oneself upon. The kind of woman that others loved to hate. With skin like silk over glass.

Their figure alone was enough to shame the two dimensional photoshopped models. But sharp amber golden eyes radiated intelligent beauty.

“Wh-Who’s that…?”

Fareeha delivered an empathetic side-long glance. A hint of envy crept into their voice.

“The **owner** of this establishment.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for making it this far <3.
> 
> I have two questions for all of you!
> 
> How did I go with the seduction section?
> 
> And...About the introduction of our newest character (I'm sure you know who it is by now). Should I progress the story with her default skin colour in the video game or pre-brainwashing as in a normal skin-tone?
> 
> Let me know please!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....
> 
> Uhmmm....
> 
> New chapter, yay! All done in one sitting.
> 
> And the realisation that there will be more than six chapters.
> 
> Just a couple more, maybe ten? Or eight. 
> 
> Sorry, let me know if that sparks joy or taketh away. I understand the latter since it means a longer wait till its conclusion! But hey, let me know if you have an idea to how this will piece together. Or want to take a guess to what happened to Amelie in the past

“She’s gorgeous…”

Angela murmured as she trailed after the stunning woman. The long sleeve formal blouse and dress pants only added to the appeal. It intermixed with the intelligent aura and producing a savvy businesswoman. As she leant against the counter and engaged Baptiste in light conversation, a warm hand cupped her cheek and wrenched the gaze away.

Fareeha warned, not unkindly but rather with a touch of concern.

“Do not sink into the spider’s web.”

“H-Huh?”

A light snigger escaped from the Arabic woman. “Amélie is retired. She doesn’t accept new submissives or dominants.” She indicated to the sea of hopeful faces.

Angela peered to the side, to check.

“Every night, they hope and pray they might elicit some interest from the boss. Every night, they will be disappointed.”

Indeed, many paused mid-conversation, each and everyone of them sat on the edge of their seats. Both women and men alike in their state of mesmerisation. Eyes brimming with hope and desire. The many pair of eyes trailed after Amélie, flicking ahead of her to—To Angela?

Angela flinched and stole a glance to Fareeha. Whom was equipped with a pleasant and relaxed expression.

The click of heels drew closer.

“Fareeha.” The quiet feminine voice spoke with a heavy but well enunciated French accent. Both equally seductive and respectful.

“Amélie!” Fareeha released Angela and spread her arms out for a hug.

She held dainty hand in front of her chest and shut down the act of affection.

“Non. We are in front of guests.”

Angela swore there was a tiny pout of disappointment in Fareeha’s eyes. But she had little time to ponder on the matter as the golden amber eyes flicked to herself. Her spine stiffened immediately.

“I trust you have found adequate replacement for Sombra?” The French woman questioned as she drilled her gaze into the newcomer.

“Of course. I had Ashe take her place and a newbie handle reception.”

“Good. Send Moira to my office when they are finished.” Their gaze snapped away for a brief second.

“Of—Of course.” Fareeha gulped, their otherwise normally smooth and relaxed movements seemed to be jerky in Amélie’s presence. “Do—Do you need medical consult?”

A quirked brow laden with scorn was the only response.

“S-Sorry. You’ve just been so moody—” Fareeha ceased and shut up as Amélie’s eyes began to glower.

“This is the fourth time in a month. It is **_unacceptable._** I could look past it if it was public play. But no.” Amélie snapped.

It was like someone flicked a light switch, the pause button in the room turned off. Conversation quickly returned but a sense of urgency lingered. As if they wanted to distract themselves.

Angela stood like a lopsided twig in the ground as Amélie admonished Fareeha.

Fareeha tipped her head forward apologetically.

“Yes, yes! You’re right…”

Amélie’s expression lightened by a fraction. A faint sigh escaped from their lips. They touched their fingertips to their flawless forehead.

“Sorry. That was a bit harsh.”

Fareeha flashed an uncertain smile.

“S’okay. I know it’s been a stressful week.”

“Thank you. Now, introduce me.” Amélie turned her attention back to the swiss doctor.

Fareeha stared at her with a blank expression

“What? It is rare that someone catches your eye lately.”

“Oh! You’re one to talk!” Fareeha marched over and playfully swatted her on the arm.

A pause between them ensued. And then quiet amused noises.

“I’m not going to steal her, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Amélie teased.

Angela’s jaw worked like an unhinged door as they bickered among themselves.

Fareeha rolled her eyes and scooted back to Angela’s side. “Uh-huh. Well, this is Angela Ziegler. A certified surgeon from Garden City Medical centre. She’s new to the scene.”

A flash of recognition flashed across Amélie’s expression. The s-shaped brows shot up.

Fareeha and Amélie shared a silent exchange, the honeyed amber eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Ah—You work with Dr. Shilo Siegel?”

“Wha—Yeah. Yes, yes I do.” Alarm bells rang in Angela’s head, questions rushed rapidly into her overstimulated brain.

“Ah, excellent. How is she? Doing well I hope.” Amélie’s expression softened into a pleased smile.

“Y-Yeah. Fine! She just got married not too long ago—How do you know each other?”

Amélie’s head tilted off to the side gently.

“We…Met a while ago when she visited Paris.”

Fareeha’s brows knitted into a frown before a look of realisation dawned upon her.

“Ohh! I remember. She was at your birthday party a couple of years ago!”

Amélie inclined her head in Fareeha’s direction.

“Correct. She was a trauma surgeon—”

“Dr. Siegel’s head of surgery now.”

Angela blurted out, drawing both their renewed attention. Maybe she was shrinking but they grew in height as their eyes focused upon her.

Fareeha looked like she had been slapped.

“Oh really? Do send her my belated congratulations on both the promotion and marriage.” Amélie tipped forward by the hip slightly. “It has been quite a while since we’ve spoken due to circumstances on my end.”

“O...Okay.”

Likely sensing the awkwardness, Amélie glanced at her wrist.

“Ah. Look at the time, forgive me doctor. I must get going now, I shall leave you in my friend’s **_very_** capable hands.”

“A-Angela’s fine!”

“I do hope to see you around. It has been a while since young Fareeha here has become so lively in the presence of another other than myself.”

“ **WHAT!?** S-Shuddup!” Fareeha stomped over to the entertained French woman and shooed her in the direction of the stairs.

“Hohoho—See? Au revoir!” Amélie sauntered away with a wave.

Fareeha whirled around, caramel cheeks tinged with a blush of pink. When their gazes met, a tiny pout formed across their lips.

Angela raised her fingers up to cover her lips, the sight of the flustered dominatrix eased her mind, triggering a giggle from. In that instant Fareeha Amari became a touch more human in her eyes. But even then, the smoulder emanating from still had enough effect to turn her legs to jelly.

“S-Sor—ELP!”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Fareeha seized her wrist with a vice-like grip and was powerwalking through with a sense of purpose. Angela’s heart hammered in her chest as she was led through a complicated maze of hallways and stairs.

“W-Where are we going!? Aren’t we going to regis—”

They whizzed past a sign that was labelled for ‘Staff Only’.

“F-Fareeha!”

The surroundings had become but a blur to the doctor. After another flight of stairs, the duo came to a halt in front of unlabelled room. A pent-up huff left the woman in front of Angela. For a moment they seemed puzzled if not slightly startled. They stared straight at the door, unmoving.

“So…Hmm. I think I should lead with an apology.” Fareeha mumbled, scratching at her cheek with the naked hand.

Angela tilted off to the side and peered at. A pink tint had overtaken caramel mocha cheeks.

“It’s okay. But mind telling us where we are?” As she finished the sentence, a flutter of playfulness erupted in her tummy. A mock gasp followed, “Is this a kidnapping?!”

Fareeha pivoted her head, glancing over her shoulder and shot a quizzical brow. They remained quiet until Angela’s excitement began to diminish and discomfort sunk in. She revealed a wolfish grin took hold.

“My…My…So the timid little doctor does have a playful side, hmm?”

Angela’s expression brightened at the twist, with a slight spring in her step she bounced on the spot and nodded towards the door.

“So what’s behind there?”

Fareeha leaned against the door with a confident smirk.

“Ah, curious?”

Angela shrugged and averted her gaze upwards. She didn’t recall being this active in a while.

“Hmm. Depends…Is it scary?”

“To some.”

“Oh? Like whom?”

Fareeha weighed her response internally.

“How about I show you instead?”

“But what about registr—”

“Forget it, Amélie’s probably went ahead and approved it already.”

“H..Huh?!”

Fareeha’s cheeks renewed with a fresh paint of pink. A quiet mutter under her breath.

“…. Innocent types.”

“What was that?” Angela asked, rocking back and forth on the spot.

A gloved hand covered their lips as they cleared their throat.

“Ahem… Before we go any further, I just want to ask, Angela. What is it are you looking for from Le Chateau?”

“Uhh… That is a rather loaded question, Fareeha.”

Fareeha crossed her arms, expression turning to stone once again. Completely unreadable.

“Then let me clarify, what is it you desire from **_me_**?”

That was an obvious enough answer.

Angela opened her mouth to respond.

But the words refused to come out.

Wait, was it obvious?

Of course, she wanted to sleep with the woman in front of her.

But…That hadn’t been in her mind the entire night.

No.

Rather she was enjoying her time with Fareeha regardless.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Angela simply gawped up at.

A flicker of emotion disturbed the stony visage she put up for herself.

“You don’t know, do you?” Fareeha murmured, a bitter smile formed on her lips. “…Becoming attached to one’s partners in this industry can be…An experience. One I don’t think you’re quite ready for.”

Angela jerked forward as if to retort but again silence. And then their expression faltered. Looking off to the side as if they had been stung. Fareeha had seen it far too many times to count. It was partially the reason for Le Chateau’s strict panel for approval.

The swiss doctor retreated a couple of steps, backing away from. The pointed chin lowered to her chest.

Fareeha spoke softly. She clasped her hands behind her back and leaned against it.

“Angela. So long as you visit this establishment, I will be here and willing to entertain. But…Try to remember, it will only be to entertain. Work is _work_.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between.

Fareeha decided she would wait as long as necessary. She owed the woman that much, after all she wasn’t entirely without fault either.

Angela’s eyes betrayed the visible conflict within her mind.

A minute ticked by.

And then another.

Before finally.

“I see. Y-You may be right. I…I’ll need some time to think about this. S—” Angela’s voice wavered; she banged a fist against her chest. She managed to squeak out the end, “Sorry for wasting your time.”

With that she turned in the direction they had come from and began to storm off.

“ **Angela.** ”

They froze. Rotating around slowly.

Fareeha unclasped her hands from behind and indicated with the gloved hand. “There’s an exit over there. It’s a bit more discreet. If you prefer…”

“Th-“

“Don’t worry about it.”

Fareeha cut her off and bowed her head, on the off chance their eyes met. She wasn’t sure what would transpire.

_‘This is better for both of us.’_

As the click of heels faded, a squeak of the fire escape door followed by a light gust of wind. Fareeha’s fist clenched as she waited for the clunk of the metal door.

She remained rooted against the door.

 **“SHIT!”** The well-trained Arabic woman hammered her clenched fist against the wall.

Fareeha’s insides twisted and turned.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Wow.”

“ **Is that all you can say?!”**

“I mean…Wow.”

“ **God damn it, Amélie. This is your fault! You put the idea in my head!”**

“Don’t you dare pin this on me. **_Fareeha_** **_Amari._** I did not cause you to self-sabotage yourself in such spectacular fashion.”

Fareeha whined and kicked at the ceiling, whilst flailing her arms.

“…Wow.”

“ **CAN YOU SAY SOMETHING ELSE OTHER THAN WOW?!”**

“Ok. I can’t wait to recount this to your mother.”

**“AMELIE!!”**

Fareeha leapt to her feet, the quickest in her life and stormed over to the antique Victorian mahogany desk. Shooting daggers at the woman seated behind.

Amélie stared up at her emotionlessly.

The grandfather clock in the corner counted the seconds by with its gentle ticks.

Eventually the emotionless face relented with a beaten sigh.

“..Fine. I did it to remind you of such consequences that **_could_ **happen. You said it yourself, **_new_ **to the scene. If she comprehended it fully and was prepared to commit to such a relati—Service.” Amélie’s expression soured at the slip. “Fareeha. It’s not impossible. But _few_ are willing to commit.”

Fareeha relented, dropping her gaze. “…Yeah, few. “ She paused and met their eyes with a confused mien. “Have _you_ given up?”

“… **Yes.** ”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning!
> 
> This chapter starts off pretty depressingly.
> 
> I'm also crunching these out in one sitting.
> 
> Take a look at the end notes please!

Two weeks passed in a blink of an eye.

Maybe that was a bit of a lie. The first week was sluggish and full of discomfort. Days passed by in a haze of confusion and disorientation. Blots and blips of unconsciousness filled her afternoons. Shards of discarded glass scattered the floor.

It wasn’t like she was sharing the drink with anyone.

The proud Arabic woman’s distinguished features flashed across her mind.

Angela shook her head groggily and raised the whiskey bottle up to her lips, the harsh alcoholic content stung her nostrils. She took a long draught with a slight wince.

_God it burns so right._

That was how she spent her afternoons and evenings.

The mornings were reserved for the monumental effort required to get out of bed, make an attempt to repair the damages done by the previous night and then the purchase of junk food and alcohol.

It was therapeutic in a way.

The orange pill container steadily declined as she rationed its use to last until her return. Maybe it was the remnants of her rational mind arguing but she did recall at some point thinking.

“ _Atleast I’m not using the caffeine pills.”_

As Sunday arrived, Angela stared at the empty container and gritted her teeth. Propped against the foot of her bed, head tilted over the wooden beam. All those seminars on addiction…For nothing. Of all the professions out there in the world, she couldn’t think of one that should’ve been better prepared and learnt than the medical field.

Robert’s voice rang in her head.

_“Two weeks.”_

“Well. That just went swimmingly. Great job _Angie._ ” 

Angela chuckled bitterly; she tossed the container at the wall. Wincing as the effort renewed the pounding in her head. The hangovers were a near daily occurrence as well. Water, that’s what she needed.

But the kitchen and effort proved to be too distant.

Funny how the worries of the past faded into meaningless drabble with a few cups of liquor and time. She recalled the chill down her spine as her mentor threatened to report her abuse to her mother.

But that was the irony of the job.

They were there to take care of patients, sick or not. Healthy or not.

But…

Who looked after them?

The countless doctors, nurses, paramedics and other medical staff.

Countless hours around the sick, injured and dying. The endless sea of emotional and physical exhaustion, depersonalization, and lack of sense of personal accomplishment.

The world didn’t improve no matter how many times she wielded the scalpel.

A light chuckle shook her shoulders, and now she didn’t even have time to ponder on the matter any further.

“I’ll just…Go to bed. Can shower….”

Angela trailed off; unrestful sleep seized her.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

A throbbing pain assaulted her neck the instant she blinked back into existence. Her phone pinged with message after message, waves of nausea washed in like waves. The aching in her skull ebbed and flowed.

The sun was out but it did little to ease the cool morning temperatures of autumn.

With a low grunt, Angela tapped her finger against the home button on her iPhone sat against the side of her right inner thigh.

**10:33AM**

“… _Damn.”_

That was all the care that arrived at her summon.

Angela reached up and propped her elbow against the wooden beam between the posts of her bed to lift herself up. If she was going to be late, at least the very least, rock up looking like a stable and well-adjusted human being.

The trudge to the bathroom drew her attention to the absolute mess of a chamber she called a bedroom. Weeks of piled up junk food wrappers and piled up bottles of various alcohols. Still she possessed enough sense to leave enough room for a clear pathway to and from the bathroom to the open living space.

A quick glance to the living room revealed the damage was limited mostly to the bedroom.

Apart from a few bottles and scraps, the shattered glass cup was the only other collateral damage.

Angela grunted and continued her way into the bathroom with a slouch. Bracing herself against the sink, she peered into the mirror. A lattice of pinkish red over the white, early signs of hollowing cheeks and cracked lips.

A rather gaunt appearance.

“ _Nothing some make-up, eyedrops and lip balm can’t fix.”_

By the time she had finished drowning out her eyeballs, a hot shower and steam and applying a hydrating mask, half an hour had passed. As luck would have it, she found the rejuvenating bio cellulose mask tucked away in the back of her cabinet mirror.

Well.

At least she was far more presentable now.

Still that wouldn’t save her from the—

Lena’s peppy voice sprang to mind,

_“Wild bollocking I’m about to receive!”_

The fond memory of her long-time friend pranking their teachers and headmaster bade a grim smile to tweak at the recovering lips, eliciting a painful pinch.

_Ow—Ow. Okay, no smiling today Angela. Not that you’ll need it._

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**“ANGELA ZIEGLER. WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?!”**

Robert’s voice bellowed into her face, echoing into the spacious office and no doubt down the lengthy hallways of the medical centre. The smell of stale coffee wafted over.

Angela dipped her head forward, refusing to meet his gaze. Shoulders rolled forward as she sat on her hands. She responded with a flat, emotionless voice. A strange sense of pride welled in her chest, for all that was happening. She was quite well-spoken.

“Sorry…”

_‘Just a few more minutes Angela, you can do it.’_

**“SORRY? SORRY?! I GAVE YOU TWO WEEKS TO CLEAR YOUR ACT UP!”**

He roared, slamming his hand against the table. The sheer force rocked the contents atop of the desk, the empty orange pill container toppled over onto its side. Its life on its side was short-lived as it was quickly picked up and shaken. But before Robert continued, he attempted to calm himself, taking a moment to breathe as the veins in his forehead bulged.

**“Angie, I didn’t expect you to completely ween off Valium, I gave you enough for at least one a night.”**

Angela shrugged with downturned eyes. Transfixed by the patterned rug underneath, as she attempted to count the amount of hairs at its surface. An impossible task but anything to distract her.

Maybe Robert sensed her lack of attention, or the poor reception. But it set him off into another tirade.

**“SO WHY FOR GOD’S SAKE IS THIS CONTAINER EMPTY?! DO I REALLY HAVE TO CALL ELENA?”**

Angela shrugged again.

An audible exhale emanated from in front of her. A hint of frustration crept into their voice.

**“Do you HAVE anything to say for yourself?”**

“….Can I get back to work now?”

Robert spluttered in disbelief.

Angela didn’t even need to see him to realise he had buried his face into his hands. Years of Christmas dinners and visits from when she was a child allowed her to recognize his actions purely by his tone, delivery and ticks.

“Back to work? **BACK TO WORK? ARE YOU UTTERLY FUCKING INSANE?!?!** ”

The oak desk squeaked underneath his weight as he stabbed his fingers at her.

“ **You—YOU’LL KILL SOMEONE IF I LET YOU BACK INTO THE O.R.”**

Angela muttered darkly under her breath.

“…Bit late for that.”

A sharp intake of breath could be heard. Robert fell still, slowly sinking back into his chair. They sat in silence.

Angela lost track of time.

Had it been five, ten?

Fifteen?

“ **Until further notice, you’re stuck on clinical duty.** ”

Angela stood up; head still tucked into her chest.

**“You get a single pill of Valium a day.”**

Her head snapped up with widened eyes.

**“You can’t do that!”**

Robert’s voice lowered into a growl. He turned down to the papers in front of him and picked up his fountain pen. Scribbling as he announced.

**“I can and I will. From now on, your prescription will come directly through me. I will _personally_ inform each and everyone of them myself. And you can expect a call from your mother as well.**

Angela’s chest heaved; a line of pain ran along the side of her jaw. Her operating hand clenched and unclenched.

**“Are we clear, Dr. Ziegler?”**

“ **I hate you.”**

Robert’s brows shot up; the pen fell still.

**“ _Excuse me?”_**

**“I HATE YOU-- I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU!!!”**

Angela screamed, stomping her foot into the rug underneath repeatedly as she bared her teeth like a feral beast. The corner of her eye twitched.

Robert remained frozen to the table.

She pivoted on her heels with a snarl and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

The faces of the many nurses and doctors, the hospital staff of Garden City. The people she could’ve once called family now looked like faceless husks to her.

Their startled expressions and whispers fell on deaf ears as they parted out of her way as she stalked to her duties.

**_“Fuck ‘em”_ **

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“It’s usually in pain, in the morning.”

Angela stared up at him wearily, the bespectacled middle-aged man seated on the exam table rotated his shoulder and rubbed at it with a wince. She queried him with a flat voice.

“So…Your arm only hurts after you lie on top of it all night.”

“Yuh.”

Angela rolled her eyes discreetly.

“Hm. Well…Have you thought about…” She gestured with a shrug, “Not doing that?”

He snorted. Waving the suggestion way dismissively

“Duh but its how I sleep! How I’ve always slept.”

Angela turned her gaze onto the arm.

“Well, there’s always surgery!”

His expression brightened.

“Oh yeah? What, like clean up some cartilage or something?”

Angela feigned innocence.

“You’re not sleeping on some cartilage; you’re sleeping on your arm.”

The middle-aged male stared back with a bewildered expression.

“Y..You want to remove my arm?”

An uncaring wave of her hand followed.

“Man’s gotta sleep.”

**“Are you insane?”**

That was just one encounter of the mind-numbing hours during clinical duty. She didn’t even bother to leave for lunch once she was situated in her exam room. Of course, the occasional idiot did provide a minute amount of entertainment for her newfound snark and uncaring insolence.

Like the one who couldn’t measure his own pulse properly.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

After losing track of the amount of days that had passed and without Valium. Alcohol became her new substance of choice. Down to a single meal a day, Angela was sluggish. Often during the quiet hours at the clinic, she would doze off for minutes at a time.

Robert and Angela hadn’t spoken since.

It was obvious gossip took place

Fellow peers remained tight-lipped around her presence. The few times they attempted to start up conversation, they were met with prompt answers that discouraged conversation. In the past, medical students and equals would often ask for consultation and guidance.

But now they avoided her like the plague.

One evening, a quiet knock disturbed her mid-afternoon nap.

Angela woke with a start, wiping at the corner of her eye with a stained sleeve before groggily answering.

“Come in…”

The thin metal door parted way and revealed a middle-aged woman with mocha skin. Despite her age she was garbed in tracksuit pants and a hoodie. Spry. Their figure didn’t betray any signs of physical weakness, posture straight and shoulders drawn back.

A tattoo leading up to her lower eyelid.

Angela deduced she hailed from a military background.

Their crow’s feet betrayed the once smooth skin as they revealed a grin. Voice light and playful

“Doctor. I’ve come for a check-up!”

She strode forward and handed over a file.

Angela covered a yawn with her arm and accepted it nonchalantly. She pivoted around in her seat and flipped it open as her patient leapt onto the exam table, kicking her feet playfully.

“Don’t care what, give me any test you need.”

**REDACTED**

Angela’s brows shot up. Now that was a sight not too often seen. Her eyes skimmed through the numerous sheets clipped together, flicking through until she found a location to begin.

Numerous lines had been crossed out and scribbled through followed by a large red stamp.

A slight frown teased the pale woman’s brows as she stared at the name.

“Ana…Amari is it?”

A sense of familiarity irked Angela.

She couldn’t quite place why the name sounded familiar.

“Yes! That’s me, how can I help doc?”

Angela smacked her lips, moving on from the name and searched for the rest of the file.

“What is the purpose of your visit—” Angela paused and quickly peered through the blinders in her office. “…Today?”

A sly smirk tweaked at the corner of Ana’s lips.

“Just a general check-up, my nose has been stuffy since returning from Cairo.”

Angela nodded slowly, “Nothing else? Any aches, allergies, abdominal pain or…?”

Ana shook her head and shot a thumbs up at.

“Hm. Very well.” Angela grabbed a wooden spatula out of her mug and rolled over in her seat. Rising to her feet as she arrived. “Stick out your tongue.”

“So quick and efficient, doc…” Ana squinted at her chest. “Ziegler!” And as prompted, stuck out her tongue.

The cheery attitude elicited a ghost of a smile on Angela’s lips as she depressed their tongue with the disposable spatula. Leaning in for a careful inspection.

“Hmm slight inflammation of the throat…Are you a snorer?”

“Ahiitte hit!” Ana answered to the best of her ability. She must have found the response amusing as she snorted a little.

“Might just be the stuffy nose, do you use an air humidifier at home?”

They shook their head.

“Well, many factors could lead to snoring. But if you’ve just returned from Egypt, my guess is that the air quality might be a factor.” Angela performed a final inspection, raising the spatula and discarding it into a bin nearby. She sat back down into the cushioned seat.

“Just in case, I’ll prescribe you some cold medicine if the symptoms become worse. If it doesn’t fade in a couple of weeks, come back.”

Ana smacked her lips and nodded along.

“Alright, alright. Nice. Nice. So uh, just in case, how long am I infectious for after my symptoms fade? I want to visit my daughter while I’m still in town.”

“Usually two weeks. Symptoms do not show in the first few days upon infection, when did your symptoms start?”

“Mmm…today.”

Angela dug into her pockets.

“Today’s Wednesday, doc.”

Ana beamed.

What a _perceptive_ woman.

“Ah—Thank you. So…After next Sunday.” Angela faced back to her desk and retrieved a pen, scribbling down a prescription for Symmetrel. “Now, only take these if your symptoms worsen. Not before.”

“Loud and clear, Doc. I know how to follow orders _real_ well!”

Ana leapt onto her feet and crossed her arms above her head, stretching.

Angela passed the prescription over.

“Any pharmacy will do. We have our own in this medical centre too.”

“Perfect! Next Sunday huh? Just in time before my _surprise_ birthday party.” Ana stated matter-of-factly, she delivered a sidelong glance. “Daughter thinks she’s so sly. But she hasn’t managed to outsmart this wily fox just yet.” She winked.

Angela chuckled and reached into her draw. Straight-forward, amusing and intelligent. Why couldn’t more patients be like her? That reminded her, Lena was returning in a couple of weeks also.

“Lollipop?”

Ana’s expression brightened “How sweet of you! This is much better than the army, don’t mind if I do!” She accepted the piece of candy from Angela and inspected it.

“Cola, my favourite!”

With practiced hands she unwrapped and stuck it into her mouth, heading for the door with a wave.

“Thanks! I’ll be _seeing ya_ , Ang—Dr. Ziegler!”

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how'd I do? 
> 
> Did I catch Ana's personality okay? I imagine her as a less...Naive Tracer at times, with years of experience under her belt.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A busy weekend!
> 
> This is a shorter chapter.
> 
> I wish I had more time to flesh out Moira's character but I don't want to risk bogging down this story.
> 
> Plus, once this is finished I promise there will be my Pharmercy in the Lena X Widow fic.
> 
> Let me know what you think about the 'texting' did you enjoy the format or prefer a different one?

The days passed with a rhythmic pattern.

And today, was another quiet afternoon in the clinic.

There wasn’t even patient paperwork to file or fill. Nor did she wish to participate or assist in additional duties like she ordinarily would. Thus, Angela laid her head over her crossed arms,

**_“Bzzzt!”_ **

The phone beside her buzzed to life, vibrating furiously against the desk; the sudden disturbance caused her to jerk away from the electronic device thus causing the stool from underneath to slip out. A startled yelp escaped as she crashed onto the floor, knee absorbing the brunt of her weight.

A wince creased her features as she picked herself up slowly. Inspecting the table as she did, a half-finished sandwich sat atop a plastic plate on top of her desk, next to where her head had been earlier. The constant pings and vibration from her phone wiggled the device towards the plate.

Angela snatched up the phone before it could cause a mess and inspected it.

Since the quarrel with Robert, a call from her mother was anticipated any day now.

Thankfully…It was Lena. With a barrage of text messages.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Hi Angie!

Soooo I just wanted to run something by you real quick!

I’ll be back this Sunday! Buuut, I have a friend’s birthday party to attend but I really wanted to see youuuuu!

So, I asked her

And she said it was ok to invite you!

The address is 116 St James Boulevard.

Bring a present! She’s a buddy from the army!

Better be there or I’m coming to your house and dragging you out with me!

xoxoxo

Lena

Oh yeah, can I have some more of those swiss chocolates? 😊😊

Ok, I’ll come along.

Maybe on the chocolates.

You always eat them in one sitting

And then bounce around all over the place

Not healthy.

I’m plenty healthy!

I run every day!

Sometimes against my will!!!!

CHOCOLATE!!!

CHOCOLATE!!!!!!!!

I’m not going to stop until you promise

OK

Stop spamming me

I’m at work!

😊

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Angela rolled her eyes, Lena Oxton, ever the glutton. She stashed away the phone and stared at her desk.

Now awake and stimulated by the ‘conversation’.

The half-consumed meal drew her attention, over the past few days, a couple different nurses stopped by her exam room with a meal under the disguise of a consultation. Each time they insisted on handing the plate of food to her.

While Angela did maintain a positive relationship with most of the staff of Garden City, the recent events placed a strain against said relationships. Most opted to avoid the issue on the off chance of being caught up in the feud. It was obvious which side most would opt for.

Admittedly if the positions were reversed, she would have done the same.

That meant either two things.

Robert was keeping an eye on her

Or

Everything was settling down and she’d be back in the operating room soon.

_“No way. Robert would never allow such a thing to happen.”_

Angela glanced at the wall-mounted analog clock,

**3:32PM**

Twenty-eight minutes until the end of her shift.

If she were to follow through with the promise.

Perhaps a detour from her normal route was in order.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Like a prelude to the depravity that often ensued, the paved street bustled with life under the setting sun. Children, teens and adults hurried to finish the days errands. Not a liquor store in sight.

But that wasn’t the objective of today’s visit.

Angela ambled up the road, each stride slowly transforming into a trudge as she drew nearer to the same T-intersection from weeks before. The high-end candy store she frequented for authentic Swiss chocolate sat within view of Le Chateau.

Stepping into the store, Angela searched the shelves for any new inventions or goods previously undiscovered. Glass shelves mounted against golden walls, the interior design fashioned after a royal palace. Aluminium hand rails painted to match lined the counter. A neat queue ranging from kindergartners with their parents all the way to adults by their lonesome. As she browsed around, she found herself sneaking glances across the boulevard.

An astonished voice originated from behind.

“Oh! Is that you, Dr. Ziegler?”

_“Jesus!”_

Angela clutched her fist to her chest as she whirled around, flinching.

The mismatched eyes lit up with delight.

Moira beamed as she gestured up above. The light Irish accent drowned out the distant conversation in the background. Unlike the last meeting, the geneticist opted for simple, casual wear in the form of a black t-shirt and milk-white jeans.

“It is! I do hope you still remember me, doctor!”

“O-Oh. Hello there, Dr. O’deorain was it?”

Moira placed the palm of her hand over her heart.

“You do, how wonderful! Ah it has been far too long since I’ve had a discussion with an intellectual equal. I’ve wondered where you’ve been. Olivia too, she had such high hopes…”

Angela waved her hand out in front of her and buckled. Aqua eyes darting about for an excuse to depart from this conversation. Afraid that it would expose the events on that day, worse yet, perhaps she already knew and was preparing to tease about it.

“Noo! Oh no no no, not at all! If anything you two were very kind—I’m just not ready for such…Such an experience.”

The carroty brow lofted.

“I see…That is most unfortunate……Though that does explain Fareeha’s moody demeanour as of late.”

Angela’s attention snapped back with an incredulous stare. Soon the corner of her eyes narrowed, angling away from and towards the shelves with the expensive chocolate.

Moira heaved a sigh, a pensive smile developed.

“How I wish she would hurry up and find a person to settle down with. She’s no fun when moody, it isn’t even fun to tease or joke with her anymore.

The geneticist drooped.

Angela hesitated to ask, still unsure if the jester-like woman was toying with her or not.

“Why...Do you think she’s moody?”

“She spends most of her time in Lacroix’s office. Either that means they’ve found a new show they’ve been binging or are discussing life problems.” Moira shrugged; open palms pointed outward. “If it was the former, she wouldn’t be grunting all the time and off standing in the corner and JUST ‘working’” She raised both index and middle fingers up to emphasize.

Angela reached out to a box and picked it up, blinking as Moira elaborated recent events. The action drew their attention as they commented on the choice.

“Oh, are you a fan of this shop’s chocolates. They are delightful!”

“Hm? Ah, yes. It reminds me of home.” Angela shook the box in the air lightly with a tiny smile, her suspicions fading.

“Home? Of course, your accent. I’ve been wondering! Whereabouts are you from originally, Dr. Ziegler?” Moira clasped her hands together, expression once again brimming with curiosity.

“Switzerland, I completed my studies there and migrated to the U.K. to practice. Although I grew up here as a teenager.”

“I see, that explains that charming accent of yours! No wonder, Fareeha had her eyes on you.”

“W-What? W-Why are we going back to Ms. Amari again?”

The expression remained unchanged, yet an air of cunning began to swirl around the geneticist.

“Hmm? No reason, I just thought you two would have made a lovely pair!” Moira chuckled and unclasped her hands, raising a finger into the air matter of factly whilst rocking on the balls of her feet. “Fareeha very rarely performs nowadays...So to take such an interest, I had hoped it would reignite the spark.”

Heat rushed to Angela’s cheeks. Opting to avert away from their gaze. Muttering under her breath.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about...”

An awkward silence settled between the two. Or at least to one, as Moira chortled.

“Ah, doctor! Since we’re here, why don’t we grab a coffee and snack? I know a lovely place nearby, Ms. Lacroix introduced to whilst I was still a fresh face.”

Angela cleared her throat and brushed at her cheeks with a sleeve, turning back to face Moira.

“Umm. I was hoping for—”

“Lovely!”

“Hyukh--!”

Moira stepped past swiftly, detaining her by the collar, she waved behind. “Sylvie! Please put a box of those Swiss Chocolates on my tab for my friend here.”

Angela flailed her arms about as she was dragged along with alarming ease. What monstrous strength laid behind that supple figure! She didn’t even have time to pay for the gift for Lena’s friend—

“Wahhii—Akhh!”

Moira paused for but a moment to allow Angela to regain her footing. Without skipping a beat, she hooked her arm around the swiss woman’s frail neck. Almost as if to prevent escape…

“Not far now, Angela. You’ll adore it! They have these wonderful swiss rolls which will surely invoke nostalgia!”

Angela grasped the dominatrix’s wrist to push away the limb with her free left hand, she met the heterochromatic gaze and froze with a gulp. The mischievous glint in their mismatched eyes all but disappeared and in its place was a wolfish hunger.

Angela stared back like a startled rabbit.

She swallowed and summoned the urge to abscond politely.

A lump formed in her throat.

Moira pulled her close and rested her cheek against the top of Angela’s skull. Like an overly excited pet owner with a newborn. Cooing.

“Oh, I cannot wait! It has been far too long since I’ve had the opportunity to indulge myself!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! Our protagonist has been kidnapped for a nefarious purpose!
> 
> Just kidding.
> 
> Or am I?
> 
> Hm.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I captured the correct sensations and descriptions for someone under such effects.
> 
> During times like these, I wish I had someone to consult about such matters but they are so personal and the desire to be respectful and not rude compels me to avoid such topics.
> 
> Enjoy this chapter.

Angela released a pent-up internal sigh of relief.

Sat across from her in the brick walled vintage café, Moira forked in a healthy chunk of swiss roll, left cheek bulging from the sweet confectionary followed by a prompt and rather elegant sip of coffee. The wall-mounted booth provided the perfect seclusion from prying eyes. Polished wooden tables carried plates of various patisseries.

“Mmmnn! How wonderful!”

It would seem her companion, possessed a rather sweet tooth.

Mere minutes ago, Angela half-expected Moira to lead her to a secluded alleyway and perform dastardly deeds upon. Well, it wasn’t completely false, the café was tucked away in an alleyway. But a rather well-lit and frequented one.

“Angela, your coffee…” Moira trailed off and glanced at, the corner of their eyes betraying the underlying suspicion. “Is it not to your taste?”

“Huh?” Angela sat up in her seat and peered down. Having not touched the drink since arrival, she ordered it out of sheer courtesy. “Oh…I guess I don’t have much of an appetite.”

Moira paused mid-feast and leaned forward with searching eyes. Causing the meek swiss doctor to flatten her back against the wooden backrest. They flit about, from sleeves to shoulders and then face. Lightly muttering under their breath.

“Pale extremities, light shakiness, loss of appetite and anxious…Hmm.”

 _“Shakiness?”_ Angela reflected, stealing a glance to her hands. Surely Moira jested—But indeed, her right hand did quiver ever so slightly. It was only with sheer force of will and conscious act did it halt.

Moira leaned back, lifting her cup and swirling the teaspoon into the dark contents of the drink.

“Tell me, what are the daily activities of a surgeon of your stature?”

Angela sucked her lips inwards and over her teeth, gumming them together. “W…Well…I haven’t really been in the operating room as of late. Mostly just clinic duty.” She grasped her right hand, holding it tight. “I wake up at 8:00AM, do my morning routine, clock in. Remain to 4:00PM. Head home, go to sleep. Repeat.”

A light slurp followed. The ordinarily playful ruby and cobalt now wry.

Long and elegant digit raised into the air, slowly arching downward and eventually tapping against the top of the table. Moira spoke, “I find it difficult to believe you sleep for sixteen hours straight.”

The subtle aroma of coffee beans and sweets turned sour. Angela gulped, wiping at her brow, mind racing for a suitable answer.

“That. Uhmm…I watch television for a couple of hours.”

Moira dragged the tip of her finger backwards. Head slanting off to the side slightly. “How about meals?”

“Three a day.”

“Bulimic?” Moira’s query, instant.

“No. Not at all!”

“You’re skinnier.”

“I..I’m on a diet.” Angela replied, pushing away the plate closest towards the centre.

Moira tipped her forehead towards, shifting their weight slightly. Angela guessed she was crossing her legs.

“Do you treat me for a fool, Dr. _Ziegler_?”

Angela froze, she felt a bead of sweat trickle down the back of her neck. Left hand wringing the right, throat worked to swallow saliva. Her shoulders curled forward protectively.

“Your hand.” Moira’s mismatched eyes flicked between her and the appendage. “It’s shaking again.” She raised the cup to her lips, the same one being nurssed earlier, to take a quiet draught.

A geneticist? Where did someone obtain freakish observation abilities like that in a lab, studying genes?

“Why don’t we try again, Dr. Ziegler?”

Angela’s spine prickled with discomfort, like an unwitting patient. The seat, a soft cushion malformed into a sticky and scratchy pad.

“I..I’m fine, thank you. Dr. O’deora—”

“A surgeon stuck with clinical duties. Either we’re running out of diseases, parasites and tumours to cut out…Or you’re hiding something.”

“Zhat is none of your business!” Angela’s accent thickened as she snapped, tucking her hands into her lap, away from inspection. Their immediate neighbours twisted towards their direction. Curious to the reason.

Moira unswayed by the outburst set the cup down and cut the hazelnut praline delicacy by the corner, leaning forward with the piece of gateau, the three-pronged tips pointed at.

The sea of attention ebbed, many likely dismissing it as a lover’s quarrel.

Her voice devoid of the usual mischief and friskiness, rather if anything it was cold and calculating.

“Eat.” The dominatrix commanded. 

Pursed lips met the metallic utensil.

A shake of Angela’s head whipped her ponytail around.

An unreadable expression flickered across Moira’s defined features.

The air heavy and suffocating.

Angela’s chest tightened; the initial reluctance gnawed at the inside of her stomach. The fork in front of her held still in the air, it didn’t reveal any indication of retreating any time soon. A slow process occurred as her sense of self began to dial upwards. Every breath grew increasingly laboured, her pores oozed tiny beads of sweat gathering into one visible droplet. A light throb in the side of her head became prominent, picking up in pace until it began to thump almost as if visible to the naked eye.

The fork slipped past her lips—

“!”

There was no thought behind the action, she simply caved and accepted the offered treat.

Taste of thickened cream and wonderfully smooth hazelnut amplified by the various sugars and fruits melted onto her tongue. The irresistible delight to her dry palate soothed her senses.

“Baptiste remarked you were on some medication. What was it?”

The cake in her mouth turned to ash. Angela wanted to spit it out. But social norms withheld the overwhelming urge.

“I’m…No longer on it.”

Moira withdrew and crossed her arms with stern regard and prying curiosity…Now Angela could see it, the medical practitioner within. The same desire and resolve to save lives.

“Now that is the most truthful thing you’ve said all night, Angela.”

Angela averted her gaze from and towards the wall to her left. Shrivelling into the bench seat.

Moira continued her assessment.

“Judging from today’s interaction, I would say you’re quite the anxious individual. Something along the lines of benzodiazepine would fit. Perhaps Valium?”

Angela’s jaw set.

“But if you’re no longer on it…The withdrawal symptoms must have been excruciating.”

Heat rushed below her eyes. Angela squeezed her eyes shut, wringing her hands.

“Unless you blunted the symptoms with another…A more accessible drug.” Moira set the fork down. Resting her elbows against the table and crossing her fingers and tapped her forefingers against each other, forming a triangle shape.

“ **Alcohol.** ” The perceptive geneticist retrieved the answer from her body language alone. “You’re in withdrawal. Right now. As we’re speaking, aren’t **_you._** ”

Angela twitched her head to the side as if to swivel it side to side. Sucking her cheeks and chewing. A pause followed.

And then a reluctant nod.

Clicking fingers.

Angela dared to peek through, Moira’s hand raised in the air and performing rapid clicks. Puzzling the surgeon.

A fresh-faced waiter rushed over.

“Did you need something ma’am?”

Moira flashed a sweet smile, “Yes, a shot of Frangelico.” She hesitated, “Make it two, just to be sure.”

“Right away ma’am.”

Angela waited for him to be out of earshot before whispering.

“Than—” Voice chokeing up, she raised a hand to cover her mouth. “Ahum…Thank you.”

Moira remained silent and lowered her hand.

“Do you live alone?”

“…Yes.”

“Parents?”

“H..Home. Switzerland.”

Moira’s lips thinned.

“Friends?”

“…….”

A weighty sigh escaped from across. Quiet muttering followed; Angela could barely make it out.

“..I must be crazy.” Moira retrieved a rectangular device—A phone, fingers working quickly. She elevated it up to her right ear.

Less than a second passed.

“It’s me. Can I take tonight off?” Moira’s gaze was somewhere above her, towards the thin panel window. “Yes. I’ll be sure to—That’s fine. Something came up.” Ruby and cobalt eyes flicked to. “Sorry. Patient and doctor confidentiality.”

Angela’s aqua eyes broadened.

The call ended.

Moira pointed a sharp finger at.

“My practice. Tonight.”

Angela yelped, the waiter from earlier seemingly materialized beside. Two shots of strong citrus liquor set on opposing sides of the table.

Moira grasped the shot closest and reached for Angela’s coffee. The attempt paused to measure her response. Nothing. They proceeded to tip the shot in, followed by the other and then a quick swirl with the teaspoon set beside the plate.

“ **Drink.** ”

Angela obeyed. With a shaky hand. She raised the drink up to her lips, emptying it into her famished maw. Large painful gulps. The hastiness combined with shakiness resulted in a slight mess.

After setting the cup onto the plate, she fixated her gaze on her hand. The once healthy appendage now seemed skeletal in comparison.

Slowly but surely the trembling receded.

Moira failed to hide her alarm. She gestured to the paper napkin and then to the corner of her lips.

Angela took a halted moment to realise. Hastily cleaning up the mess, a miserable squawk as she realised her uniform was caught up in the collateral.

Moira snapped her fingers at and gestured

“ **Up.** ”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The rest of the night a blur.

Angela didn’t even recall walking nor any other form of transport available to her befuddled mind. Yet somehow, she found herself standing in the hallway of a contemporary home. Sweaty, sticky and queasy.

She was slumped against another figure. The woman with her earlier, a doctor as well. Her brain blanked as she attempted to recall their name. Distinct emotions of surprise, fright, dislike, intense dislike and then gratitude.

Short and brief minutes of coherency blinked in and out.

A hot bath and vigorous scrubbing. Short and firm orders, she complied with sluggish movements.

The cool air against her naked form, warm air blasting through her shoulder-length locks as she stared at the mirror with an unfocused glaze. A tall figure with ginger locks responsible for the howl of the machine.

Nausea, overwhelming nausea. Stomach lurching. The ground underneath her rocking like an unsteady boat.

And then the hand tremors as she lay in the mess of sheets and feathery soft mattress.

The gnawing hunger and desire.

Just another drop…

Nowhere in sight.

Finally, the distant voice drifting in and out.

“Hello, this is Dr. Moira O’deorain calling under the behalf of my patient…”

“Yes, the same….”

“Ah! How pleasant to hear from you again, Carol. Carol Diem, correct? How is your child?”

“Good evening, Dr. Hayes, I apologise for calling at such an hour….”

“Forgive me but are you not acting as the current director? I believe I requested for her immediate superior….”

“Ahhh…I see. Interesting…Oh no I wouldn’t dare…Or would I?”

“I kid, I kid…”

“ ** _Angie_** is currently resting at my personal practice.”

“…Yes, I have decided to return. Forgive me but I will have to decline such a considerate offer.”

“That information is under strict patient, doctor confidentiality.”

“Mhm. Yes, just a couple of days.”

“It was a pleasure to speak to you again, doctor—Or should I call you director now?”

“That would be lovely. I look forward to it…Yes, bye bye.”

The occasional trickle of liquid.

A brush of the hand. Stroke of the scalp.

_Relief._

_Silence._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you enjoy the plot twist?
> 
> Only the sweetest can collar brats like Sombra!
> 
> Let me know in the comments!

**Author's Note:**

> Sincerely hope you enjoyed this first chapter.
> 
> Leave a comment <3
> 
> Hope I captured Angela's personality okay!


End file.
